


Tears in Tarasyl'an Te'las

by wiltedartist



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dimension Travel, Eventual Smut, F/M, Romance, What Have I Done, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-01-23 20:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12516160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiltedartist/pseuds/wiltedartist
Summary: Just as victory over Corypheus seems within the Inquisition's clutches, Solas has a glimpse into the world he destroyed when the Inquisitor survives an explosion she should not. Only now, she is a very different person. Meanwhile Inquisitor Lavellan finds herself face to face with Fen’Harel, or as he refers to himself, her husband.





	1. The Dread Wolf's Fright

**Author's Note:**

> So funny story, I actually have a ton of Solas fanfictions started with the intention of writing one shots. But because there is no ‘one shot’ way to describe how this stupid angsty elf god makes me feel, they’ve all basically turned into short stories and sometimes novels that I’m never happy with. This is probably one of my shortest (in the scope of long term execution) but it keeps growing in my head everyday. Urghghghg….Anyway, I love Solas and I think he’s so complicated and neat, but my desire to end on a note that doesn’t depress me will likely make this very long winded. 
> 
> Keep in mind that while I do like the Elven in the game, I do not have the mental fortitude to study what we know and pretend to understand how the ancient Elves in Dragon Age spoke. So watch out for the < > symbols, because that’s how I’m denoting big Elven speech. The Elven I do know will be included, of course. As for perspectives, there are two ‘worlds’ the chapters will focus on and the titles will indicate what they are going to be.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

 

 It had been a week since he did the hardest thing he had to do since he woke from his long sleep.

 

 From the moment he met Ellana Lavellan he had been fascinated by her. He had loved before her, but he struggled to think he might love after her. There was too much in her that brought his heart to a stop, his breath to a shudder, and made his mind rush. He remembered others and he found himself wondering if they meant just as much as Ellana did. She was the very reason he had to restore their people. How could he not, when she reminded him of all the glorious things they had once been? How could Solas let things remain as they were if it meant the people who tried to grasp for their heritage ran around in slave markings and barely commanded the respect they deserved?

 

 He hated how beautiful she was, just as beautiful as he knew she would be, without the marks. Sun-kissed skin still smooth to the touch, sparkling eyes that had seen only him, and the very visage of strength and spirit. But he pushed her away, and he planned. Soon the hour would come when he would need to leave her behind and start anew with his people. He was happy he had done it already, because now he remembered too much every time he caught glimpses of her. 

 

 He remembered her stern but elegant form as she commanded others, and how she respected his position. He remembered the trust she placed in him so quickly, too quickly, because he was not like the others. He was an elf, and he understood. Oh, if she had only known just how much he did. He remembered gazing up into the stars with her as she sat beside him, she had insisted he come out to see the stars, and she explained every detail of how the stars reminded her of tales he had told her. She told him of her feelings about the Fade and the wistful shimmering in her eye that glimmered from the moonlight caught his heart. She danced with the Bor’Assan.

 

 “Vir Bor’Assan,” she had echoed to him to explain her personal philosophy. “They teach us the way of the bow, bend but never break.” And she lived this idea, sturdy but doing what she must. He would have given much for her to have been born a very long time ago, in a time where her shining spirit would glimmer amongst its peers. He had even heard her tears in her dreams, ‘Did you ever love me?’ she murmured sadly, uncharacteristically downtrodden.

 

 Of course he had. But glimmers of beautiful gems in the mud of what their people were forced to endure was unacceptable. His gift would be to her as well, even as it destroyed all she cared for. Most of him understood the likelihood she might perish, but part of him hoped ever still the immortality she deserved would be bestowed upon her. He knew he did not deserve that hope and especially not the fulfillment of the wish, but he had to do it. But knowing what he needed to do did not change that he loved her. 

 

 ‘If only you saw what I see, perhaps. . .” But it would not be. He would need to keep this distance, even more perhaps, or risk it all. 

 

 Solas’ fingers traced edges of vellum as he ran his quill rapidly. He had many other things to think about. There was much to do and as painful as it would be, it would be better for his people than what they had now.

 

 Then it happened.

 

Originally, no one knew what caused the chaos. All that occurred was a blinding light before all of Skyhold was covered in screams and panic, though no one had seemingly been killed. No one except for the one person they could not afford, it seemed. There was smoke billowing into the sky that smelled like ash, flesh, and most notably magic. To Solas the smell was blindingly familiar - the smell of ceremonies and rituals that only the most ancient of Elvhen could possibly recognize. But what he heard was the most concerning part of it all: only the Inquisitor had been caught in what appeared to be an explosion. 

 

 As far as anyone could tell, it was her own fault. Apparently the spritely Elven woman who was named to the Inquisition as it’s leader was working with the dwarven woman who studied runes. The reasons varied but Solas would later learn the truth of the matter: she had been working on restoring an inactive rune of ancient Elven origin. It would make sense to him, then, but for now nothing made sense at all. He only felt panic. If she was gone the world was doomed and if she was gone he was also doomed. 

 

Cassandra was the first to arrive at the scene, something made clear by the dust and debris on her armor. She had been sifting through the rubble created from the gardens. Solas could hear her frantic words as Leliana asked her questions in a hushed and panicked tone. 

 

 “What happened here?!” Leliana’s voice seemed to tremble but it was not simply panic, it was also anger. 

 

 “She sent everyone away from the Gardens about an hour ago- and now she-she. .” Cassandra’s look was of horror. Everyone understood the implications of the Inquisitor perishing. Morrigan, who normally allowed her son to play in the Gardens and resided not far from them, stepped forward. From the dust on her clothing it seemed as if she had been here the whole time. 

 

 “If you will allow me to explain, the Inquisitor approached me not 4 days passed to inspect a rune of unfamiliar origin- and asked me how I might help her learn how to activate it,” the woman was covered in dust herself. It suddenly became obvious to all who were there that she was involved. 

 

 “You-” Solas spat with the utmost indignance. “What matters that you hardly understand have you meddled in now?!” Morrigan scowled at him.

 

 “She judged me to be perfectly capable, are you angry she didn’t think you were?” she cut back at him. This was hardly the time, but Morrigan was clearly a _bitter foul woman_ -

 

 “Quiet!” Leliana shouted as she touched her forehead, kneeling and attempting to concentrate. It was clear she was trying to find some way to reason this all out. Cassandra bit her lip and then ran back to a pile of rubble, and soldiers that had gathered to the courtyard followed suit. Solas tried to feel for her, tried to reach out for the magic she held that was more than familiar to him. The Orb-

 

 But it was gone. He could not sense anything- anything _except for_ -

 

“Stand back!” he yelled as he realized that the rune, whatever it was, was still pulsing and even gathering energy. Within a moment there was a wave of energy washing over them. It was all Solas could do to throw up a shield and hope it would be enough to protect them. Once the energy met him, however, it knocked him backwards and his body hit the stone of the courtyard hard. 

 

 Solas gasped in pain. Already there were too many emotions to deal with- the crisis and the chaos threatened to engulf him. He sat up from the ground, his head swimming with emotions and fatigue. His hand traced blood from the side of his forehead and he grimaced. If he could not withstand a blast from a good distance with the energy around him, how could she have survived with no protection at all? 

 

 Her loss meant so much to the world. Her loss meant so much to him. He had left her to spare her the pain of having to destroy people she cared about, he left her because he was afraid she might try to stop him- he left her because he had no choice. But her death was not something he was ready for. Her death was something no one could afford.

 

As others around him began to rise, he began to see changes. Much of the rubble that had been created from the initial blast was now gone. The most damaged thing seemed to be Cassandra, who was breathing harshly but with few serious signs of injury except for blood pooling from her mouth. ‘Lucky for her she was wearing that armor,’ he noted as she gripped her head. She didn’t appear to be in mortal danger, but she would certainly need to be healed. 

 

But something else held his attention. His hearing seemed to fail him until the moment he heard the sounds coming from the smoke, coughing. There was someone near the epicenter of the blast, and his eyes widened. There was another, familiar echo of a magic he had long ago possessed.

 

The pulse of his orb.

 

The mark.

 

Solas did not notice the way figures rushed to heal Cassandra or the cries from around Skyhold. In his mind he had lost someone he loved for the second time, and he would have done anything to restore her to life. ‘Even if it means nothing. Even if everything she loves crumbles soon, all I wish is for her to live.’ Even though he had hurt her himself just a week before. All he noticed was his trodding footsteps as he sprinted towards the gray fuming clouds in front of him.

 

“Ellana!” he called sternly, “Ellana!” he repeated, trying not to allow his panic to be relayed. He heard gasping breaths as he listened for the sound of her voice, and approached the sounds as quickly as he could. Before he could reach the noise suddenly a burst of wind surrounded the gardens and he felt himself tense, barely catching himself against rather than tumbling back towards the ground. He looked again to the center and found that all the smoke had been blown away, and the grounds had been completely returned to their previous state. The rune at the source of the trouble was pulsing a faint green before it finally stopped and went dark. 

 

Beyond the rune a figure crouched, a familiar figure to him, and he sighed a burst of relief. The Inquisitor raised her head to look at him and Solas paused. It was certainly her, but something seemed different. He didn’t have time to consider before she smiled at him. The feeling crept farther as her smile widened. He didn’t deserve a smile like that- not after how he had crumbled her heart apart in front of him for his own reasons. No, he pondered, there is no way she should be making that look at him at all. Was it surprise, relief, happiness at her own survival that caused that response?

 

He walked forward all the same. He had to make sure she was alright. He crouched down beside her and looked her over.

 

“Inquisitor, are you alright?” For a moment, she looked completely puzzled. He noticed a lot of things different about her right away. Her Vallaslin had been removed a week ago and it was still absent, but her skin seemed altogether different. The texture of her skin was as soft as the finest of silks, different from the slightly textured skin of a woods dwelling people. The Inquisitor was a woman who lived in the forest for many years, but here she looked as if she had seen finer days than that. Her hair, too, seemed more delicately cared for than he had ever seen it.

 

It was longer than he remembered it being, trailing down her shoulders and even lying almost to the ground from where she crouched over. It looked softer to the touch than ever before, and he almost wished he had the right to stroke her hair in comfort. But the most jarring thing was what was said next, as she opened her mouth she responded to him in the purest form of their tongue he knew.

 

<“My Heart, why do you speak to me as a quickling might? Are you alright? Did that strange light do something to you?”>

 

He was taken aback. He had not heard the words so beautifully spoken by a living creature in so long his heart ached. Ellana had learned much from him but she could not converse as intricately as she was already proving to know how. And her eyes. She looked at him like he held the moon and danced with the stars, not at all like he had destroyed her heart. His stomach clenched horribly.

 

This could not be Ellana. Not the Ellana he knew, not the Ellana that was meant to be here. He knew it because this woman loved him with all of her heart, and looked at him as if she trusted him to cradle her very life on his fingertips. This Ellana was one he had never broken the heart of. 

 

<“Ellana,” >he said coolly, hoping dreadfully that this was still her name, <“Please give me a moment to explain.”>

 

She tilted her head and then suddenly her eyes widened. She shot protectively towards him and put one hand around him, one hand towards the oncoming residents of Skyhold.

 

“Thank the Maker, Inquisitor, you’re alive!” Leliana said as if the world had been lifted from her shoulder. Cassandra was sitting up with men around her but there were clearly sighs of relief spilling from her blood coated lips. Solas caught the eye of Morrigan who seemed to have a different reaction. 

 

“Alive. . . yes, but the same?” Morrigan muttered under her breath. Curse that witch for her infantile understanding of whatever she put her nose in. Solas hesitantly put his hand on the smell of her back. She was tensing underneath his touch and her breath was catching.

 

“What is the matter, is she alright, Solas?” Leliana had another look on her face, the dread had returned. 

 

<”The magic, my magic- I can’t, it’s not. . .  Solas, why does this air not breathe the Beyond? Why can’t- Why can’t I feel the magic?”> She was breathing heavily and her eyes darted from place to place. Solas felt a cold sweat on his back. How could he explain this all to her now? How could he even admit it? He didn’t know how, he didn’t know what this rune had done, but the woman in front of him was not the Inquisitor. He gripped her left hand and felt the familiar sensation of the mark, and he rubbed his fingers against it. 

 

<”It is alright, my Heart. Rest now, all will be well.”>Solas ran his hand along her forehead and pried her worry, concern, and unrest from her. Morrigan gave him a subtle look as as everyone else in Skyhold that possibly could shove themselves in seemed to surround him. Coughing up dust beside him appeared Dagna, the dwarf who had aided the Inquisitor. While he felt anger at her for dabbling in magics she did not understand, he was not as infuriated at her as he was Morrigan. 

 

“I hope you are pleased, witch, that your dabbling into magics you do not understand has brought this conclusion. She is speaking nonsense now, dazed and confused, and Cassandra is injured. You don’t know half of what you think you do about these artifacts,” it was all he could do not to outright call her a fool. If this rune was what he thought it was, it should have been left in his hands to deal with. 

 

“The Inquisitor asked for my discretion,” the witch replied harshly, “And to specifically leave none of it to you. So you may thank the woman in your arms for it. .  .” she shot him a sideways smirk. “May you not?” 

 

The woman knew this wasn’t Ellana. At least, not the Ellana who was the Inquisitor. That she chose not to reveal it here and now was her attempt at a powerplay, but they both knew better. If anyone thought the Inquisitor was replaced by some potential imposter they might panic, cause a stir that could lead to riots, perhaps even scatter their ranks before Corypheus could properly be stopped. He shot her a knowing look. Even though he detested it, he would need to show discretion in regards to Morrigan. If she knew the truth and was willing to cooperate with him, then she could not be outright ignored.

 

“Dagna,” he said directly, “Please bring that rune to my room. If I am to restore the Inquisitor to her rightful mind in time to fight her most important battle, I will need to study it.” Dagna confirmed it with a guilty nod and he picked up the woman in his arms. Iron Bull trotted forward and held out his arms.

 

“I think it would be best if I did the job, she’s an easy carry for me.” Solas looked the Qunari in the eye and knew what he was really thinking. ‘You spurned her, you don’t have any right to be in her room, or to carry her in your arms.’ And Solas knew it was all true. He had no right to hold her form in his arms and let her hair drape across his hands. He had no right to smell the intricate perfumes. Even if she was an Ellana who loved him, she loved a man who was both him and not. But he stood fast.

 

“Bull,” he said softly, “I am the only one who knows how to handle his magic. I am her best chance.” 

 

Iron Bull stood there for a moment, and then stepped aside. It was true, however much he hated it. As Solas trudged passed several of the Inquisitor’s companions gave a questionable look. Varric sighed. It was all generally understood the Inquisitor would not be happy that Solas was the one caring for her, so all they could do was try to be there for her when she woke as well. But unease was underneath even that feeling: so close to victory against Corypheus, is it possible they would lose it all? 

 

Morrigan waited a moment, and then followed. Leliana gave her a furious look, “You are part of the reason this happened, she doesn’t need your help!”

 

“Wouldn’t you rather she have all the help she can get?” Morrigan said, scooting passed Leliana’s attempt to argue with her. 

 

\----- 

 

The air hung over Skyhold like a net clinging to fish. Up until now many of the soldiers and allies of the Inquisition felt the mere presence of the Inquisitor and her successes as a sign of their destiny to complete their task and slay the foul creature who had torn a hole in the sky. But now, there were lingering doubts. It was taking a lot of work from Leliana and Josephine to encourage the troops. It wouldn’t have been so bad had many of the soldiers not seen the woman in Solas’ arm. To his credit, she looked relatively unharmed, but the rumors of her confusion and inability to understand even Solas worried whoever heard the words.

 

Which was why every one of the Inquisitors close companions had spent the better part of the day reminding them all just how much ‘Andraste’ had protected her. Varric himself wanted to choke on the words. Part of him felt wrong- part of him felt nauseous. But if he’d learned anything about powerful women, it was how they bounced back. Bianca smiled even when she caused a problem, and snarked just the same. In a lot of ways Hawke reminded him of Bianca when it came to a problem: she snarked, grinned, and fixed whatever mess there was. . .though normally Hawke just had a tendency to step into other people’s troubles, not cause much of it.

 

Even Corypheus had been because of those damned cultists and Grey Wardens. 

 

Varric sat at a table, weary from the day’s work of encouraging the Inquisition. Yes, he knew how Hawke and Bianca were, but the Inquisitor was a different batch of exuberant. Where Hawke would grin at him and make jokes, the Inquisitor would be forced to remain calm. Even though he knew the elf had her own sense of humor, she took quite seriously the tremendous burden that was on her. Hawke, after all, would likely never have been able to stop Anders from making the colossal fuck up he did. But the Inquisitor had to stop Corypheus, she had no choice. So thinking about her much needed brand of serious and awe inspiring glowing hand being in the same troubles as the other women in his life wasn’t as comforting.

 

“She is alright, you know. She is just, different. A painting, the same, but a different artist. The same, but different…” Cole was suddenly beside Varric and of course, on the same ominous crap he always was. In a way he was always glad Cole never changed, it would be unsettling if the boy was worried. Before he could respond Cole smiled.

 

“Thank you. . . but it’s not bad.. . it’s…”

 

“If you don’t mind, give me a minute to decipher what you just said before you go doing. . .that” Varric shot Cole a smile but leaned back and sighed. 

 

“Right in the home stretch. . .that Inquisitor sure knows how to make things interesting. Interesting isn’t always. . . fun, though.” Cole nodded at his thoughts. 

 

“She probably agrees with you. . .”

 

\--- <

 

Ellana had a headache. It felt like she had too much to drink and too little to eat. As she opened her eyes she found she was in a familiar room, one she spent most of her nights when she was in Tarasyl'an Te'las. The room seemed very different, however. None of the fine fabrics woven from refined Ironbarks remained. They were very rustic, she had admitted to Solas when he protested the design of the fabrics hanging in the room meant to be his, but she appreciated the artisan’s touch on nature and he had allowed her to assist in changing the room. ‘Our people have not used fabrics like these in quite some time.’ 

 

‘That’s why it’s special, don't worry, it's the only old thing I really want.’ But the curtains there now were certainly not ones that Solas himself would have chosen. And the windows, they were even worse. They were based on the beauty of the woods and absolutely archaic, like someone who had a rudimentary understanding of the Elvhen people made them. If her archaic Ironbark fabrics were laughable, the architecture of these designs were rudimentary and insulting. ‘Do they think we swing from trees and live in caves?’ she scoffed for a moment. It seemed inane and preposterous to think of her people so far from their truth. Within a moment she realized something was also missing, her connection to magic. 

 

To the Beyond.

 

It felt like being robbed of the ability to breathe. She looked to her hand and felt no magic swell to her fingertips or pulse in her veins. She grit her teeth and looked around the spiraling room. There had been humans everywhere before, a sight not often held in Tarasyl’an Te’las, and her main means of defending herself was gone. She had been a skilled archer before she became an apprentice, but she did not see a bow. She recalled now that Solas had put her to sleep, but why?

 

“Ah, You have awaken, how did you sleep?” a familiar voice pooled in from the Balcony. She felt relief to see Solas standing in front of her. She looked to him uncertainly.

 

“My Heart, I, I am troubled. It is gone.” She looked to her hands. “The Beyond is far away, Far from me. . .” She grit her teeth. “And those quicklings, what were they doing here?! Did they cause that horrible green light, too?!” Solas sat down beside her. He was completely unsure of what to say. The hours he had been bought told him little, and gave him little clarity. It was cruel that Ellana looked at him so. 

 

“Attacking Fen’Harel, they must be fools!” she looked down distastefully. 

 

And there it was. The breath felt knocked out of him. The one thing she could not know, the one thing that would change everything. She knew. She knew and she still loved him. He kept his face cool but it was hard to keep his composure when she touched his hand.

 

“Something is not right. You seem. . .different. You seem...tired. Tell me, what has happened? Did those quicklings attack us? Are we safe?” He curled her hand in his and his other hand covered it. The soft skin had traces of magic. Why would she have his mark? If he cared for her in whatever place she was from, how could he have allowed her to wear a mark that would mean her death? His heart pounded.

 

“Yes, yes my love. We are fine.”

 

What could he tell her? That in this world he was too terrified to tell her the truth? That he was going to give it all up and embrace himself in her, lose himself in what she was, and he decided not to? Would she hate him more for knowing that he betrayed her love, or that he betrayed their people? He felt in her ancient magics that were fading away. This Ellana had been in the Beyond, and embraced the immortality that was a gift to the Elvhen. He could see it in her, and in this vision he saw what she could have. 

 

He was right to do what he did. He did not deserve her: he betrayed her in a greater way than she knew and that he did not like to consider. Were it not for him she clearly would have been born, and she would have been born to an immortal life where she was awoken to the Beyond. 

 

“I am. . . not the man you know,” he began hesitantly. “I am not a good man.”

 

His voice was softer than the words. The Elven fell off of his tongue like he had told her he loved her, but the words cut himself so deeply. To know for certain there had been a world where he made better decisions and had the potential to be. . . he stopped himself.

 

“I don’t understand.” Her look was harder, she was clearly examining his features as if to look for someone else. She moved her hand to touch his face and he grabbed it. The moment he touched her hand he regretted it, as her eyes filled with something akin to what he had done to her days ago. 

 

“I can feel you,” she whispered softly. “You are him, even if you are not.” She took his hand and touched it to her neck, where a glittering necklace lay against her skin. For a moment he felt nothing, and then he felt a realization. Inside the necklace was something that felt like his- a magic very akin to the mark on her hand. It pulsed like a heartbeat- and he realized it beat to his own heart’s rhythm. This was a magic he could have accomplished in his best days, but so very different. 

 

It was agony. To have given her such a thing meant he must trust her beyond what he could now. He could see it all in an instant, a happier life than he had ever owned. One where he had solved it all, somehow, and spent the rest of his years maintaining whatever he created. Not asleep- a guide to his people. And somehow she had been born there, and she shined even then, catching his attention.

 

What difference it could have made to have a woman with her strength supporting him. What difference it would have made to found her and have been happy.

 

‘In another world-’

 

His own words caught in his throat. The Ellana he rejected could not know how true it was, but even he could not believe how true and blissful the visage of his happiness with her could be.  He loved her, but he had to remember how he loved his people more than anything. They needed him, and only he could do this. If anything this was proof: all of their people deserved to feel as she did. 

 

She stood up and looked around the room.

 

“What has happened, my Dread Wolf? What has happened to this world? Why is it so silent? Where are the spirits?” she looked around the room and walked towards the furnishing, tracing her delicate fingers along things. 

 

“. . . It. . .” he looked away from her gaze. “It’s my fault.”

 

Her eyes widened and she walked over to him, kneeling down and looking up at him.

 

“I swore to you I would stand by your side always. I don’t know what sort of dream this is, or what nightmare, but I want to hear what has happened here.” She held up her right hand to his face and pointed to the jewelry on her finger. On her hand was a woven ring that looked like a much more ancient variation of silverite. Instead of rings humans wore he noticed a similarity to jewelry of the ancient elves- something beautiful he might pick out himself- an intricate pattern that simulated the look of plants or vines interlocking. But shimmering in the ring were gems cut to the finest of slivers, keeping the integrity of the pattern but glittering in the moonlight from the balcony. It looked so finely made there was no doubt it was from the world he once knew. 

 

His stomach lurched. How intricately did he think of this on his own, this gift to show his love to her? He had noticed her fine clothing and it’s fine woven fabrics, and he had known then she was wearing relics of his past. But he had been suffering all of this time, and so he kept the gentle and patient look on his face even as he suffered now. All he had ever meant to do was help his people, but it seemed he had stolen something precious even from the people who loved him in this time.

 

“This is a cruel truth, my heart. Cruel indeed,” he ran his finger over her ring gently and then stood, her face following him as he stood. “The barrier you feel along this world is called the Veil. It separates the Beyond and this world as you feel it now.” He watched her take in the words before he finished with the hardest part. He had to prepare to see her reaction. 

  
  


“And I...was the one who created it.”

 

>


	2. The Inquisitor's Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trouble began when she found the rune.

Ellana had found the rune while gathering supplies. Truthfully, she had been searching Elven ruins without Solas. She knew once he ended things that a special connection she had to the origin of her people was gone, and so she grieved by trying to find her own connection. ‘But I will never walk the Fade as he does, so it is impossible.’ But when she found the Rune, she knew it was something unique. The only problem was that it seemed absolutely lifeless, even after she had slain a good deal of undead creatures in order to get it. The pulsing magical energy from Dorian’s attacks had not even stirred it, so she immediately grew more curious.

It had taken only a few hours of study to realize this had some very precious relationship to her people. She had stared at the rune, caressing it in her hands as she thought about it. Her greatest feeling of sadness when Solas left her was the feeling that so much of her own heritage was gone. He told her of wonders she could only imagine. Being Dalish meant to her that she was closer to the truth, but with Solas she had been closer to the real thing than ever. She touched her face and sighed softly. This rune would be interesting to figure out, but Solas could have done it far easier than she. 

But she couldn’t accept that. Solas had left her, and his knowledge was as far as he would be. No doubt once this war was over he would slip away from her as far as he could. 

So she resolved to fix it herself without help from Solas. Eventually this became more complex: She would examine it with him after she had successful results in attempt to reconnect, as a sign of their ongoing friendship. She had found the rune before being told she would need to slay a dragon to defeat Corypheus, but once Mithal had revealed herself to Ellana and Morrigan she had spent much of her time preparing for the final battle.

But the rune needed to be done before then. She couldn’t just let everyone go their separate ways without a proper farewell to Solas. Even now, she loved him painfully, and she needed there to be at least something between them. Friendship, at least. She was not pining, at least not as much as she could be, she was spit angry at the Elven man. All she had wanted was something to hold onto.

She let that go, and tried to fix the rune. And on the day the explosion occurred, she finally went somewhere with it. The voices of the Well had aided her alongside Dagna and Morrigan- with their help she was sure she could figure out what the rune did and even show Solas she was capable. It would not win him back, but it would certainly repair at least something between them. She hoped. She had not let the preoccupation with Solas be her only feeling. Maybe this rune, whatever it was, would help them defeat a dragon. 

Ellana had a particular talent at not thinking about certain things. She had maintained a calm and serious demeanor as the Inquisitor by just choosing not to over think any of it. If something had to be done she memorized the steps and ignored the importance behind them, making it into a game of chess in her mind. It was not that she didn’t understand the levity of it all, but she knew by tomorrow she would no doubt be forced to face a dragon and then fight Corypheus himself. It was almost blissfully pleasant to have a broken heart at the moment. It was terribly easy to ignore the suffocating fear of dying and the world falling to dust when she felt like her heritage was so far from her and her heart was shattered.

So she had heard the voices whisper to her in a language she did not understand, and _ they spoke of her desires for ----- _ ...what was the desire for, anyway? Knowing what the voices meant instinctually was very easy but understanding what they meant in literal words was not something she possessed the ability to do. 

Morrigan had an idea, however, and her recommendation was a small catalyst. So together with Dagna and Morrigan, Ellana had cleared the garden to make room for safe testing. The three had tried a variety of tests with little to no results. Finally, Ellana had tried Morrigan’s idea of a catalyst. Standing more than 20 feet back, Morrigan cast a spell Ellana had not seen done before. She was definitely not a mage but thanks to the enlightenment of the Well of Sorrows, she knew much. Finally the rune glimmered for a split second before stopping. After a few more moments of observation nothing else occurred. 

Casting the same spell yielded the same results, and so on and so on. So Ellana, in her frustration, walked over to Morrigan. 

“Do you have lyrium?” Morrigan raised an eyebrow but pulled from her pouch a small blue vial. Ellana chucked it at the rune. Morrigan’s eyes shot open and she reached for the vial in a vain attempt to stop it, but when the blue liquid combined with the rune it had no reaction. Morrigan looked even more shocked at that.

“That was. . . there is no way that is possible,” she shook her head. Ellana shrugged. She knew that was what would happen. But in her head voices echoed -’touch-’ and almost as if in a trance she began to walk nearer to the rune. “Inquisitor, what are you doing now?”

“The Well…- the voices, they-” Morrigan stiffened at Ellana's words.

“Inquisitor. . . perhaps it would be best not to interfere with the rune for now.” Ellana shook her head.

“I’m just going to touch it, nothing else. It’s most likely nothing will happen, but there is a small chance I can get it to work.”

Dagna intervened as well. “The rune should be reacting to stimulus, it’s incredibly abnormal for it to do completely nothing. And that lyrium poured onto it and it did nothing, even negated an explosion or magical reaction, is a troublesome sign. Maybe we should be cauti-”

Ellana felt dazed. _Something_ in her mind told her if she wanted those desires she was unsure she could have without Solas in her life, if she would just reach for the rune right now then she would know. Her hand grazed the rune and it began to emit a soft glow that was warm to the touch. Ellana smiled at the reaction. She was still smiling at the rune when an enormous green light sprung from it, the reaction so immediate her face barely changed before she was enveloped in a warm glow.

Then the whole world shifted. It felt like she was being turned inside out and then reassembled from inside, piece by piece. It seemed like time went on forever and allowed her to feel every sensation in her body over and over. The hairs on her eyebrows tickled the skin beneath them so slightly and each strand of her hair pulling at her scalp at the same miniscule strength. Her lips felt like they were peeling and her skin both boiled with sweat and seemed to flake as if covered in dry skin simultaneously. She felt the very nature of her existence in a heartbeat, all down to the fluttering mark on her hand. 

The mark quivered, wavered, and tugged at her being. In this strange place, this strange examination of her state of existence in a realm she could not comprehend, she could feel how soundly the mark anchored her to the rune in her hand. She could not move of her own free will, it was too disturbing to feel the commands run in her mind as she begged herself to walk, but the rune and the mark seemed to pull her somewhere else. Ellana wanted to scream from how suffocated she felt, even as she could feel her lungs so full of air that she couldn’t comprehend how it assisted her in surviving rather than bursting at the seams. She had a momentary understanding of what every millisecond of her life actually entailed, muscles contracting, eyes dilating, her blood pumping in every single vein, her organs- and then it was gone.

She fell, hard. Where she had fallen she did not know. It took a moment for her to remember how to breathe and so instead she spent the next moment of pain and confusion coughing and choking on the air around her. Perhaps, she mused to herself, she should have asked Solas about the rune afterall.

But at least she was alive.

She looked up only to see a room that was completely unfamiliar to her. _No_ , she mused to herself, this room looked _familiar_ but different. It looked like one of the rooms in Skyhold, the architecture was definitely similar at least, but the decorations were far more breathtaking. She would have spent more time observing them except for the fact that there were several people gaping at her. They were not just any people. The individuals staring at her were clearly elven but dressed in a manner far different than she had ever seen. They looked beautiful. They stared at her and she stared back for a moment, until heavy footsteps were heard from outside. The Elves turned their heads to look and quickly stepped back, making room for a man to run into the room.

Not just any man, Solas. Her mouth gaped at him and how different he seemed. His head was still shaven but his face seemed younger. No, he looked just as old but more rested and somehow more graceful. His skin held few imperfections and his clothing was magnificent. He wore a white overcoat made of a fabric she had never seen before, a pattern woven into the top of them and laced with what seemed to be a soft blue and golden stitching. Atop the overcoat seemed to be a fine periwinkle shawl, and metal glinted from behind it. He was wearing a very lustrous armor, made from what looked like silverite. Solas looked both ready to dine with the finest of courts and ready to defeat a whole army.

And he ran straight to her, kneeling on the ground to take her hands.

“ _My Heart-_ ”

With the greeting of  _ Vhenan _ her heart sank. Why would he call her that? Had the seeping light caused more damage than transporting her somewhere else? She was seemingly still in Skyhold, although clearly another part of the hold. Why would he call her that after he had already rejected her. The rest of the words sunk away from her comprehension as she tried to parse his words. Then she realized it was more than that- she only understood half of the words and sometimes only every other syllable. What’s worse is the words were being spoken differently, fluently rolling off the tongue in a way she had never heard.

They all spoke like Solas did when he spoke Elven. 

“Ellana-” she heard Solas say her name and even that was more curled, more full, it danced off his tongue like water currenting around rocks. She looked at him in utter confusion. 

“I...ir abelas,” she said as lightly as she could. ‘Sorry’ was all she could say. Her mind shifted through words she knew until she could muster up a response. 

“<I don’t know how to speak Elven.>” every single person in the room looked at her oddly. Of course she could ‘speak Elven’, but she did not know how to say ‘I am sorry, I only speak a modern version of Elven that is not fluent in the way all of you speak.’ She felt like a fool, only able to follow the things they said half as well as she did because of Solas. After a moment she heard the whispers of the Well in her mind again. Suddenly all words were being explained slowly to her- Solas was asking the other elves what had happened to her, his voice was sharp but an edge of concern dripped over the steel cut tones. The elves were voicing that an explosion happened, then unmade itself, and she appeared as she was now.  

She murmured out words she did not know and they all turned to her. Solas put his hand on her shoulder and looked her directly in the eye. She had seen his eyes before, but something about them now seemed so much brighter. His hand moved to her neck and she wanted to shutter, but he calmly put his other hand on her shoulder once more and this somehow soothed her. For a moment she ached painfully. It brought tears to her eyes to think of how he had rejected her, yet now he held her like a lover. She had always wanted him, yearned for his love and his touch, but he had never taken her to bed. And he never would now. So to feel his warm but patient grasp on her body made her feel pain unmeasured. His fingers tingled against her skin and suddenly words started to make more sense, and his eyes faintly glistened for a moment.

“Ellana, please be calm,” his voice was so soothing. “You are safe, Please listen to my words. That explosion must have had an adverse effect on your mind.”

Ellana’s face was heated as she looked to Solas. Clarity hit her as she felt enveloped in the language she had only ever dreamed of truly understanding, and she almost cried at the sensation. She brought her hand to her throat and in a moment of pure joy she teared up, smiling brightly at Solas as if had never hurt her. She was in a strange position, surrounded by unknown people, and Solas was behaving strangely but she suddenly knew something that felt right. 

Touching the rune, she smiled, maybe wasn’t so bad afterall.

Solas looked puzzled again, but only for a moment. He returned her smile and it was only an instant before his lips were pressing against hers feverishly. She remembered his first kiss from the Fade and felt familiarity. She wanted to be angry, but instead she was consumed by the feelings his kiss gave her. His body was so much sturdier than she had felt it before. Her hand pressed against his chest and she felt like she was inhaling him as the edge of his tongue nipped at the soft flesh of her lips. Ellana wanted to melt in his arms but the stinging pain of being rejected only a week before kept her sane. 

Solas parted from her only to put his forehead on hers. 

“I was so worried when I felt that shock. The ground shaking, twisting, and you were. . .gone.” Ellana’s eyes drifted to the door and she saw the elves retreating, leaving her alone in her room with the man who had broken her heart. But it couldn’t be. . .anger flashed hot in her eyes. She pushed his hand away and shifted backwards. He had given her a gift...but one he seemingly could have given her a long time ago. And he suddenly looked so different than what she was expecting, he looked like he was something from an ancient era of elves long lost to her. He reminded her of stories of Elvhenan. 

“Ellana?” Solas’ voice was drenched in genuine confusion. On top of his confusion he seemed hurt. 

“I don’t know what you are doing,” she breathed intensely. “I- understand you might have been worried about me, but you. . .” she looked uncomfortably at him and he simply looked at her, waiting for her words to peel out of her lips. “You really want me to say it?”

“Yes, Ellana. I want to hear what is troubling your thoughts.” Her eyebrow raised and she grit her teeth.

“Solas, you’re the one who ended things between us. I don’t think this is appropr-” Solas’ face hardened in an instant and it stopped her words in their tracks.

“What?” he asked in absolute confusion. He looked offended, shocked, and hurt at the same time. “Ellana, years ago when the two of us-” he shook his head. Ellana could feel his eyes pouring over her form for what seemed like the first time and she felt uneasy. This was Skyhold, wasn’t it? And he was Solas? He had kissed her after all, he clearly knew who she was. But she could not shake that he seemed so different from the Solas that she remembered. He met her eyes as his fingers traced her cheek and softly moved strands of her hair from the frame of her face. Realization dawned on him in a way even she could not understand.

“You are Ellana, but, you aren’t,” he said after a moment. He looked to her neck, and then her chest, and his eyes seemed to bulge. His hands shot to hers and she felt her mark stir as his eyes began to glow. She felt a slight pain that made her wince and he gripped her hand in confusion. “You have the mark, but you do not have my. . .” He breathed heavily as he looked at her. “You did not know Elven as I know it. . .And you do not have the ring. . .”

He stood up and began pacing. “It would be impossible for one of them. Even for I, to make you a new soul. . .to make a copy so perfect of a living person.” Ellana stood and looked at him with frustration.

“Solas, I do not understand! I was in the Garden with Morrigan and Dagna, we were investigating a rune that I found. The rune glowed and suddenly, I was in this room. Do you know those elves?” come to think of it, she recalled the rune being carefully attached to her hand when she was experiencing that awful reaction. She began to frantically look for it, hoping she could explain herself better with the rune. She peered behind her to find the rune and smiled, grabbing it and holding it to him. 

“This is the rune!” she stood and presented it in front of him. He put his hand on it and took it with a deeply concerned look on his face. 

“This rune?” he asked with his voiced edged in skepticism. Ellana nodded. He gripped the rune so tight she was sure it would shatter. 

“Ellana,” he scowled. “This rune needs two to function. It is a rune of scrying knowledge, used between two people to share their intercepting knowledge.” His eyes pierced into her. “What is troubling is that you should know this. You have been studying a way to make a duplicate of it as all its corresponding runes have been destroyed. What’s more, Mythal has her pledgling and her daughter with her, so I don’t know how she could have helped you” Ellana blinked heavily. She knew for a fact she had never done anything of the sort.

“The. . the voices in the Well. . .they told me to. . .they knew it was for knowledge,” she touched her forehead. What was going on? If what he said was true then what did it mean?

“The Well?” he urged her onward. How could he pretend not to know? He had been so furious at her for going into the Well, for taking its knowledge. She shook her head.

“Vir’Abelesan” she stated. She watched his eyes and expected a look of recognition but there was none. “You. . .don’t know?” he asked. It suddenly struck her how bizarre he really looked. She grabbed her chest and remembered how it felt to breathe when that rune activated, like the air in her lungs was strangling her instead of giving her life. “How could you not know?” she murmured. “You were so angry at me, and then you left. . .you were angry I subjected myself to the will of Mythal. .”

“Why would I be angry with you for listening to my closest ally? You have aided her many times in our years together, Ellana. But this just proves another point. It is clear we know each other on sight, but you have touched a rune and seemingly used it when you weren’t capable. Tell me Ellana, have you used magic on the rune? A lot of it, perhaps spells that were Elven in origin?” Ellana felt a cold sweat.

“I didn’t, I can’t use magic, but she-” she stopped her words instantly when he looked particularly disturbed.

“What do you mean you can’t use magic?” he said as he walked close to her, within inches. “You are the best mage I have known in generations. You were chosen by one master to the other, until I chose you,” he touched her hands lightly. “Ellana, you respond to the name, you look just like her, and you even taste like my love, but you speak of such a sad life. Tell me, what happened to you?”

Ellana looked him in the eye. There was only one thing she could ask. “Do you remember my Vallaslin?”

“What? Why would you ever have one of those?” The realization dawned on him.

“I think. . .the Ellana you know of, and myself, are different people,” she whispered to him. His fingers grazed the rune. 

“Or maybe, you are not different at all,” she looked down at his hands as they shook. She realized she had never finished telling him the whole truth about what happened. Perhaps this version of him would know the truth.

“I. . .I didn’t use magic. But Morrigan did, some kind of spell. And I threw. . . a vial of lyrium at it before I touched it,” Solas’ eyes widened in apparent understanding. He smiled at her in a way that made her heart sing.

“I understand now,” he said in a forlorn voice. She did not understand why he suddenly seemed so sad. He took her by the hand and guided her to a nearby seat. “Sit, dear Ellana.” She tilted her head but took the seat he put her in. He sat in the other one with the rune in his hand. He looked to it, and then handed it back to her. “We are in a bit of an unfortunate situation, you see. Normally this rune should be inactive if there is not a partner to it. But say there was a partner. . . far beyond, so far away it would be unfeasible to even expect it to work. The trick was to pour energy into it as specific intervals. Users of the knowledge would pour energy into it to get it to work.”

She nodded as he suddenly levitated the rune to turn around. 

“The rune you have now is clearly not mine. Mine was in a solid state, no damage, but my Ellana was using magic on it daily. The amount she has used is probably immense. Your…” he coughed awkwardly, “Misuse of lyrium. . .we pronounce that differently in Elvhen by the way-” he took the time to enunciate lyrium in the Elven tongue, similar but very distinct. “On top of spells you cannot describe. . .” Ellana felt conflicted at that. It was both frustrating to see the results of her mistake but her heart fluttered at hearing the subtle differences in this word or that. She could still feel the knowledge of the common tongue in her mind, but he rearranged and improved her Elven inside of her mind bit by bit as every second passed. 

“My working theory is that you poured in the exact magical amount at once. And. . .after that is all conjecture. You both are bearing the mark of the Orb, a power which can destroy barriers between realms. Potentially the mark is the key. And you changed, between realities, because of the power of the Orb.” Ellana stood quickly. 

“Realities?! What reality is this then?!” If she was in a different reality, that meant that the other Ellana was in her place. A cold sweat hit her. Right before the battle with Corypheus. “I-I need to get back Solas. She’s not ready for what we were doing. There’s a war, a final battle, we have to defeat a Dragon!” it was like her irresponsibility hit her all at once. Her ability to displace her anxieties and fears was no longer viable. If she didn’t find a way to get back she would have failed everyone after everything. Solas stood and pulled her into a gentle hug.

“My Heart,” he breathed. “Whatever this is, it is not so easily solved. But I assure you what you just described is something the Ellana I know can handle. She is a prodigy. And from the sound of it, the two of you are not very dissimilar.” She pushed back from him.

“She and I are different people. The you of my time has...spurned me. In a sense, it is unfaithful of you to refer to me as such.”

Solas stared at her for a moment. He looked towards the window and walked towards it. Solas felt a conflict burning already in his heart. He could not look at her right now if he was going to process the emotions he needed to. He took a moment to look out into the sky and consider a life without the wife he loved. He felt the calm he maintained at all times threatening to crumble in front of this younger, much different version of the woman he knew. The world she described sound hellish in its own right, and he could only imagine the grief and guilt he would feel being responsible for such atrocities that happened to the Elven people.

But he almost had been, and that thought was chilling. Now his wife was potentially lost to him forever. He could not help but feel that emptiness sweep over him. The woman behind him was so close to what his wife used to be: hard and hurt by the world and always taking responsibility for everything she could in order to make it better. He felt like he was seeing a younger version of her, not a version of her that was fundamentally different from her. He should see her as a distant illusion, but she wasn’t. He felt her in his arms and knew she was the same woman, no matter how which world she could have come from.

But could he ever ask her to love him, or would he lose his wife in two ways at once?

“Did you love him?” he asked her suddenly. “This foolish other self of mine?” Answering that was like pulling knives from her heart. Of course, she would always love him. 

“I always will,” she replied as calmly as she could imagine. The hurt was fresh, the heartbreak new. Solas turned to her.

“Can you tell me why?” he returned to the seat and sat below her. Ellana teared up. 

“What is the point of this? As soon as we figure out how to undo this then I will go back, and he will spurn me again. This is just a dream, an unfortunate dream from a rune I do not understand, and it will all be fine.” She ran her fingers through her long hair and breathed roughly. Solas shook his head.

“You do not understand. The likelihood is...incredibly low. That this magical incident happened at all is extraordinary. If your battle is to be fought in a week, or a month, or even a year it is unlikely you will have the chance to fight it on your own. You could spend decades here before the incident happens again. You could spend the next one thousand years here. My Ellana would be able to decipher this is the case within hours, I am sure. And I am sure she will manage to talk some sense into your version of me, she always had a gift with it.”

Ellana slunk back into her seat with fear on her face. She had screw up terribly. After all this time, her mission in life, her Inquisition was not going to have its Inquisitor. “You say, we both have the mark?” she whispered hopefully. Solas nodded. 

“Though yours...is far more dangerous. What was I thinking, letting you touch my Orb without protecting you from it first?” Ellana’s eyes burst open. 

“Your Orb? The Orb is.. _yours_?” Solas seemed taken aback. “You told me it was of Elven origin, but you never said it was yours!” Ellana panicked. “If it was yours, why did you never tell me?!” 

“How could you not know?” he breathed as if he didn’t understand. Before Ellana could respond an Elven man came in and bowed to the two of them. 

“I apologize for my intrusion Fen’Harel, My Lady, but you have an important guest-”

“Ah, Mythal has arrived. If you would, please inform her that I am running into some issues and will arrive shortly.” The man nodded and walked away. Solas turned his head to Ellana and saw her face a ghastly white. She staggered backwards, shielding herself with the chair as she stepped away from him until her back his the wall.

“Y-you?” she wasn’t able to breathe. It all dawned on her like a sunny day in the dead of winter. He knew so much, yet said so little. He was a mystery and he always had been. Yet he spoke perfect Elven, he knew so much about the Orb. He knew the location of Ancient Elven Ruins that the Dalish had been stumbling across at a far smaller rate, and he knew things she only dreamed of knowing. But was it really possible he was? He was the source of it all?

“You’re Fen’Harel?” Solas looked at her in complete shock. What would it have to mean for this version of Ellana to have never known who he was? To have touched the Orb without protection? “You are the one who killed the gods and destroyed our people?!” He was floored.

“The gods? While they have done much to dismay me and we are often at odds, the Evanuris are very much alive. Though after the Rebellion Mythal and I engineered they are certainly less powerful. Ellana, how did you come to know me if you did not know I was the Dread Wolf? How. . .what do you mean destroyed our people?” He suddenly looked terrified. “You can’t use. . .”

Solas suddenly remembered his contingency plan. He remembered barely saving Mythal from death at the hands of Evanuris and how as she fought for her life he would trap away the gods if he was forced to. When Mythal recovered she urged against it, and together they used their power and the rebellion of the indentured Elven people to drain the Evanuris of the majority of their powers. With the Orb they tore small holes in the world that acted as suction for magic. Irrevocably many of the Evanuris and their followers lost power as the Orb absorbed them and with the Orb they sealed the holes, taking the magic for themselves. As Solas and Mythal grew stronger they were left unable to use more and more of their magic. With the guidance of the Dread Wolf and the Mother of the gods Elves remained the dominant race in all the lands. 

Did she, perhaps, come from a world where this was not the case? He understood why someone knowing of who he was in that world might be disadvantageous, but he was adamantly pushing away the person he loved most. He had to stop himself from smiling. That was certainly in character for him, always afraid and filled with guilt when he did his best. Ellana had told him that once. 

Solas walked closer to Ellana, saying nothing as he drew close. He watched her body twitch and he watched her eyes soften. Solas pressed his form against hers and put his arms on either side of her. He looked directly into her eyes and saw in them all of her fear, sorrow, love, and lust. She was just as warm her other self was, she understood things in the same way. And when he thought he might never see her other self again, his heart broke apart. His only hope was to make this version of her see the light. 

“And do you still love him now that you know the truth?” Solas whispered, his voice deep and his breath tantalizing and hot. Ellana looked at him with doe eyes, like a thirsty woman in the desert, and he could see how deeply she had loved the other version of him. She gulped and licked her lips in anxiousness. 

“Yes,” she whispered softly. He stared into her eyes and then kissed her cheek before parting from her. 

“You will be stuck with me Ellana, likely for awhile, and it is folly to think either of us will not feel the same way we do about our other partners. I...may not be showing it well for now, but the thought of never seeing the woman I love again makes me afraid. And. . .” he looked to her, then to her hand. “I will admit, I embrace the challenge of making you fall in love with me all over again.” He walked towards the exit of the room before giving her one last look. “You have free reign, my heart. Walk the halls of Terasyl’an Te’las at your leisure, as my wife did.”

Ellana stood perplexed as he walked from the door. He knew her mind would keep racing with all she had learned. His heart was truly in pain from the loss of his sweet Ellana. He did not know how he could keep going if she had not simply been switched for a version of herself. But her tongue moved like his wife’s did, her smile beamed like hers, and the way she felt was like a mirror. It was not hopeless to retrieve his wife . . . but he had to admit he would likely not be able to resist falling in love with her again. She was the same woman. And if she would be the only version of herself in this world. . . 

‘Ellana, I feel I am destined to love you, but I will make sure you love me as well.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would make for a very interesting approach to show the Inquisitor not being able to use magic unless the Veil doesn’t exist. It was mentioned before all the Elvhen had magic before the Veil, so for the one who has always had it to be missing it and the one who never has to suddenly have it was a fun idea for me. 
> 
> I have started Chapter 4 and I’m clocking in about 5000 words per chapter, so that’s my goal for everything! I am currently a senior in college so I don’t want to update as fast as I write or you’ll end up getting nothing for a good period of time. But this short few chapters in my head is now feasibly going to take me forever so I hope you enjoy the ride :')
> 
> I have a head canon of what Ellana looks like, but I also want you to be able to enjoy it and think of your own Lavellan so unless people really want to know my head canon, I'll keep everything but hair length out of it. (I'm an art major though, so ask and you shall receive) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	3. The Wolf Mistress' Ire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This world was strange, strange and suffocating.

Ellana was having trouble adjusting. First off, the human tongue had been something she preferred to use sparingly. Thanks to her position as high mage in Elvhenan she had to know the language, but she was using it every second here. Every second person was rushing up to her to ask her how she was doing, and every third was calling her by a name she hadn’t been called in awhile. ‘Lavellan’ she mused. It was a much more respectful title than what she was called in Elvhenan. If the Evanuris had invented Fen’Harel as an insult, they had called her the Wolf Mistress to downplay her importance. Yes, she had been referred to as just the Dread Wolf’s whore at one point.

 

No one laughed when they heard the Wolf Mistress was coming now. In fact, the reaction to being called such was so similar her new temporary title of ‘Inquisitor’ that she was actually used to the respect. Still, it always took her a moment when they called her the Inquisitor to realize that was her new role. ‘New role’ she sighed deeply. She had just come to this new world yesterday, and already she missed her old role. Every breath was like trying to breathe underwater. She had been trained in magic for decades and now she couldn’t muster up a single flame. Her only relief was the knowledge that it seemed every ounce of control she possessed over the mark was still hers. ‘Solas’ gift is still mine.’ she smiled lightly. 

 

Her heart sank when she thought of that. Solas would feel so lonely without her. She had spent plenty of days without her husband when things needed to be accomplished, but to know they were worlds apart made her heart ache. Her comfort was in a man who seemed to be extremely hesitant in embracing her. Ellana had put some energy from the mark into the rune but felt no response. She still found it miraculous to be here at all. The rune required such a precise level of energy that she would not have ever bet the levels would be the same. 

 

It was likely she would never go home. She would never feel the touch of magic again, or the touch of her husband. She was surrounded now by...humans...dwarves...and other elves who did not seem to hold their heads up high. 

 

_ ‘The Elven people here do not believe in their own worth. In my attempt to protect them I robbed them of their very identity.’ She remembered Solas’ face when he said that. She believed in what he said but she did not believe it was so simple. He had stolen the Beyond from the world and harmed Elves, but he could not have known it would do that. _

 

_ ‘So what do you plan to do?’ she had asked softly.  _

 

_ ‘I’m going to fix it. When Corypheus is destroyed and I have the Orb, I can easily tear down the Veil and restore the world to what it once was.’ She eyed him wearily. _

 

_ ‘The humans view spirits as demons and untrustworthy. . .so many will die. Do enough of our people understand the truth, or will they be slaughtered?’ she said as she looked out to the open balcony. _

 

_ ‘Tell me, you have lived in the world where our people survived and knew happiness and prosperity. Do you think giving that gift back to our people is not worth it?’  _

 

Ellana did not need to focus on that conversation right now. They had stayed up very late and she had learned much from it all. So much, in fact, that she was having a hard time digesting it all. It would be very difficult to play the part she needed to, but in order to return things to the rightful order and prevent an onslaught of demon horrors from being led by a foolish Tevinter she would need to convince her counterparts troops that she was her. 

 

‘I am her,’ she wrinkled her nose. ‘I am the same woman in every way.’ She might not have believed it to be so if she had not met the Solas of this world. He was more tired, less powerful, but the same. She wanted to run to his room and hold him in her arms but it seemed between them there was an immeasurable gap. Solas was, for the first time in a very long time, someone who had a distance to her. She missed her husband, and the thought that this version of him might be all she had left startled her. He scared her because he was pushing her away, even this version of her that knew everything.

 

She realized he must be scared too, though.

 

As she was sighing a very large man sat down in front of her. Qunari, she realized. Solas had described the Qunari in this world and they were laughably different. In her world followers of the Qun were a vast minority because of the Elven population. Life under the Dread Wolf and Mother of the gods was about freedom, so few elves would ever accept the Qun into their hearts. But this world had produced a huge following: one that threatened the freedom of many. If this was who Solas had described to her, she needed to be careful.

 

“Hey Boss, we were all worried about you yesterday. Glad to see you’re up to eating grool with the rest of us today,” the man was certainly familiar with her, and she didn’t mind. 

 

“I still feel strange,” she asserted as she consumed the ‘grool’ he mentioned. She might be eating in luxury in her more recent life, but she had definitely had her share of food far worse than this. “Solas helped me speak normally, but I’m still seeing the world like I’m dizzy. It’s troubling, since tomorrow I set off to defeat a dragon.” Iron Bull let out a deep laugh and banged his hand on the table.

 

“Boss, you’re as responsible as ever. Aye, it’s true we better get that dragon before Corypheus comes knocking at our door. . .but if you go in dizzy you might not come out at all.” She shot him a genuine smile, something she wasn’t expecting. Ellana realized she had met this Qunari once. They were a more humble organization where she was from and she had been investigating them for Mythal.

 

_ It had been a terrible few weeks. She had taken Mythal’s request of her quite quickly in order to avoid her mentor, Fen’Harel. She had been his student for over a year now and the expectations were high, but that was not the issue. Ellana never had issue meeting Fen’Harel’s professional requests. It was his personal requests and her conflicting feelings that had her fulfill the desires of his most trusted fellow god.  _

 

_ Though as she was learning, god was not the right term at all. _

 

_ The bar she was in was seedy and her hair was dyed a different color and braided tight to her waist. She had taken great pains to change her appearance. Though few people knew the Apprentice Lavellan on sight, you could never be too careful when you were working for people as important as her mentor. For now she was throwing her daggers up and down. It had taken years in her quiet rural Elven city to become as adept as she was now, and she had still lost much of her skill thanks to the past few years of becoming a mage. Her time with Fen’Harel alone had made her magic immense, but her skills with the knife were definitely duller from the moment she decided to focus on the magical powers her race guaranteed her. _

 

_ ‘Aye, Missy, you have quite the dexterous hand.’ She almost snorted at that comment. What she was doing now probably seemed good to some but she had a teacher who would switch her hands every time she made a mistake, when the knife didn’t teach her the mistakes on its own. If the man behind the voice had seen her at her best he’d think she was throwing like a babe. Still, she looked at him and smiled. _

 

_ “I know, pretty good right?” she had put on an accent from some of the humans down south. In the version of Thedas she was from, Ferelden was a smaller country. She felt it would be good to put distance between herself and her current location: far to the north near the edge of Tevinter. The giant man grinned. _

 

_ “Still not half as good as I can do, if you want to be taught by a master,” he took out his own knife and impressively threw it, then caught it by the handle. She leaned back in her chair and put her boots on the table. She threw him a smirk. She could tell he was well trained but would respond well to playful banter, or perhaps it was just flirting he’d respond well to. _

 

_ “Ya know,” she smirked playfully. “My mamae always told me a fallin’ knife has no handle.” The Qunari laughed and took a close seat next to her. _

 

_ “Your ma never met a Qunari like me, lass.” She was almost one hundred percent sure of that fact. Though she had no interest in his forwardness she had to admit there was an appeal to him. An appeal that, had she perhaps been born in the richer parts of Elven society, she might have been more open to.  But Elves raised in poorer parts of the Elvhenan, though far better off than previous generations, still were raised to protect themselves and pray to the Dread Wolf for protection against slavers. To the very day Elvhenan waged war with the Tevinter humans who kidnapped elves for their magic and subjugated them, raping and forcing children on the women to integrate powerful magic in their bloodlines. The Qun did not take slaves but it did take freedoms, and humans in the South were only a little better than their far north companions. So to a rural born Elven girl, even far removed from her origins as she was in her current position, no flirtations of friendly banters came without foul intents. _

 

_ “Aye,” she responded in turn. “And I’ve never met one either.” He shot her a grin and ordered some sort of alcohol for the both of them.  _

 

_ “Why don’t you get to know one then? I don’t get to meet many Elves this far north. They’re usually afraid of these Tevinter bastards and they hide in their trees.” She wanted to scowl at that. Their ‘trees’ were beautifully architectured masterpieces. His statement was more or less an insult to poorer elves who could not afford as luxurious landmarks as their residences. ‘Or to the Dread Wolf himself, who has a hold in the skies with tremendous gardens to walk amongst. . .’ She cursed herself for thinking of the Dread Wolf with wonder. He was just a man. A very, insanely, absurdly powerful man who she was attracted to.  _

 

_ “Well, that’s for good reason,” she said as she picked up the alcohol, using a slight of hand to drop in a poison detecting herb before she took a sip. “These Tevinter letchers would love to gobble me up, I’m sure.” She could swear she heard him say the same thing before he took a mouthful of his ale, and then promptly spit it out. Her face was filled with confusion before she saw a murderous look in his eye and she looked down to her own drink. It was a different color, but judging from his expression he hadn’t been given the best batch either. But if he hadn’t been the one to poison her drink? _

 

_ He was already standing with a weapon in hand, a long heavy sword being pulled from his back. “Just what the hell do you think you’re playing at?!” The bartender was suddenly wielding a bow and arrow himself and before Bull could make his way to him, he shot. _

 

_ But Ellana saw it coming before he did. She stepped forward and pulsed enough of her energy to give her a second. Magic, she reminded herself, magic can halt even time if used well. She had learned this ability from Fen’Harel and she had yet to master it as well as she would have liked, but it was the only magic that would not seem like magic. It was the only magic that would simply make her look astounding, not like a wielder of immense power. She brought her dagger down on the shaft of the arrow before it pierced Iron Bull’s flesh, and he looked in shock at the arrow as it fell to the floor. He changed his gaze to her and bit back an embarassed cough. _

 

_ “You’re definitely my favorite elf, lass,” he said before charging at the man behind the counter. While he ran forward she took the opportunity to fall over slightly, trying to regain her strength to fight off any other offenders.  _

 

_ “You’re with that Hissrad, aren’t you? We won’t allow any of the Ben’Hassrath into Tevinter, and you’re no exception Elf!” she heard someone say behind her, and in anticipation of an oncoming blade she slide her body down and flipped around, her legs aiming low to trip the individual behind her. It half worked as the knife came down, pinning her braid in the table put causing the man behind her to fall forward on her. She shoved her elbow backwards but even though it connected he managed to wrap his right arm around her neck. If anything her jab to his ribs caused him to wrap his arm tighter. She grit her teeth as he tried to get at his knife and keep her subdued at the same time, but she jerked backwards and let the knife cut through her braid, cleaving it in half. She and her attacker fell backwards onto the table behind them and struggled against each other.  _

 

_ Ben’Hassrath, she sighed. This man was a Qunari spy. But from the way it sounded, one who was being tracked. It was unlikely he was tracking her, but she couldn’t be too careful. If she got out of this alive that is. It was a toss up as she tried to slip her fingers under the man’s grip and get his arms away from her. But in an instant the large Qunari gripped the man’s arms and pried her free. As she scurried away from the man the Qunari gripped his collar. _

 

_ “Who sent you?!” he growled at the man.  _

 

Iron Bull. She doubted it would be the same Qunari when she first heard Solas tell her the names, but it seemed that Ellana was connected to more than just Solas in her other life. Maybe there was something to destiny.

 

“I’m glad you’re concerned, Bull. But you know me, I’ve always been able to get out of every other mess I’ve found myself in.” Being in another version of the world I don’t belong in not withstanding, she thought.  He gave her a nod but his face turned serious.

 

“We were all worried Boss. You know better than to mess around with things like that without help. I know that what he did cut you deep- even if you won’t admit it- but-“ Ellana had begun chuckling lightly and Bull gave a puzzled look.

 

“I agree with you. I did try to find help but its clear to me now only Solas had any clue what it was. . .” not even a lie, she shrugged. Of course she knew a great deal about the rune and how to properly manage its powers. It was the other Ellana who had run into is blindly. She couldn’t blame her, though, if Solas had rejected her and pushed her from her own heritage she too might feel a desperate desire to reconnect. But she had to play the simpleton in this situation. She played a regretful leader. 

 

“I understand, we all trust you know what you’re doing.” Just as he said that an Elven girl sat on the table.

 

“Hey there Lavellan, good to see you’re alright after that stupid crap you pulled with that rune.” The girl in front of her had short cropped yellow hair that almost resembled hay, and she knew immediately from her tone of voice that this was the ‘Sera’ Solas had mentioned. Ellana was surprised not to recognize her at all, she was sure the other Elven party member was more likely to be connected to her than the singular Qunari. 

 

“I agree,” she said with a smile. It was off-putting to have someone directly address her counterparts mistake. In a way it was like she had already slid into the identity of this other person. But on the other hand it was almost endearing to have such fresh honesty. Ellana backed up a little as Sera’s face got close to hers. 

 

“Geez, was that a rune of pretty-crap? Your skin makes you look like one a them hoity toity nobles at a ball. And look at your hair.” Sera unapologetically grabbed a strand of it. “You’re like one of them fairy tale princesses Quissy.” Quissy, Ellana parsed? Oh, right! Inquisitor, and Quissy was. . . she had to shake her head. It was true she was very well off in her recent years and it had done wonders for her wardrobe and complexion, and generally resulted in second glances from most places. 

 

“All that trouble for a damned makeover? You coulda just asked Dorian!” Sera and Iron Bull both erupted in hysterical laughter at the latter’s joke. 

 

“Did I hear my name?!” They heard an echo of a far off voice and within a minute a man came down the stairs with a trot. She did recognize this next person, a son of a Tevinter mage who had come on more than one occasion for negotiations alongside his father. Her memories of him were slightly more brief but especially fond. 

 

_  She was angry at her new mentor, Fen’Harel. He had done her a great honor by picking her for her new position, but he had torn her from a place she wanted to be. She had been doing her best to keep cheerful smiles on but learned very quickly she would have to settle for calm complacent looks down vacant hallways. She knew this was the best thing for her and she had ‘earned’ the position on her own by publicly exposing an Evanuris plot that would have unseated a section of the Dread Wolf’s plot. ‘You’re part of the sport now,’ he had told her when she first heard his mandatory offer. ‘They’ll use you in one way or another, and your clan is included.’ She had no choice but to accept it when he put it like that. _

 

_   But her re-evaluation of her life was making her grumpy. She had done a great job smiling at the Tevinter men who were visiting today, but when they were all in her master- she corrected herself, he detested being called a master by anyone- her mentor’s room she had a frown on her face. Beside her was a human with a fantastic mustache and probably the most impressive human attire she had seen.  _

 

_  “Not a fan of humans are you? I get that. That whole human trafficking thing really puts a damper on our message of enlightenment, doesn’t it?” Her eyes widened when he made the joke and she had to stifle a laugh as she turned to him. She was blushing as she tried to hold back a full bodied giggle. “Ah, so you are made of feelings! Good to know it’s just us, not that you’re boring like the rest of them.” She tried so hard to stiffen her brow but his good humor was just what she needed at the moment.  _

 

_  “Well, at least you’ll admit your nation does anything wrong. A lot of the people your country sends are a bit fanatical,” Ellana responded in kind now that they were both in a better mood. He snorted. _

 

_  “A bit? More like ‘Maker shoot a fireball up my arse and end this torment’ fanatical.” Normally when humans mentioned the Maker Ellana twitched uncomfortably. Their ‘Maker’ had been the cause of lost territory for the Elven people and all in the name of defending the weaker of the Elven people. They hadn’t exactly been wrong -the poorest of the poor in Elvhenan were certainly suffering thanks to slavery- but the false gods responsible for this were regularly stifled by Fen’Harel and Mythal. But this man managed to slip it in without discomforting her. The fireball up his are was probably why. “And don’t act like your people don’t have the same issue, if you won’t mind me saying.” _

 

_ Ellana nodded. “It’s true, but we have plenty of issues. Slavery is something the oldest of the old want to hold on to, subjugate the lesser even if they’re of your own kind. At least I can say for Fen’Harel he values freedom above all else. When members of my clan were being trafficked by these older individuals, he killed one of them and then asked me to join him to help end that conflict. I have seen both sides of Elvhenan and each have their problems.” He seemed to blink for a second and then coughed. _

 

_ “I take it you lived near Ferelden? Your common tongue is quite good.” Ellana nodded.  _

 

_ “I do prefer Elven though. But I appreciate your perspective, it’s good to see humans who aren’t stuffy, too.” He snorted and held out his hand. _

 

_ “It’s Dorian,” and when she shook his hand she looked into his eyes and gave him a friendly smile. _

 

_ “Ellana Lavellan.” _

 

 Seeing Dorian again was a breath of fresh air. She missed that hair brained Tevinter noble. She would not even need to try hard in order to imitate familiarity with him.

 

“Oh hello Dorian. We were just discussing how blowing up makes me look positively stunning, but were postulating you could replicate the effects in a safer way next time.” She was leaning on her hand with a grin like the cat who ate the canary, and he delivered a look in kind to hers.

 

“Oh darling, if you wanted to look more stunning there were much easier ways. Most of them. Some of the sketchier Tevinter magic you might want to stray away from. Besides dear, you don’t need blood magic to look fabulous,” he took a closer look at her and raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe you do, Maker if exploding is all you need to do to make your hair that soft there are some people worth exploding. Provided it’s reversible, of course.” Ellana took their quips in stride. 

 

“I deserve every joke,” she stated simply. “So keep them coming. But, do it later. I need to go practice to get ready for tomorrow.” She stood from the table and stretched her arms behind her, letting out several creaks and a yawn. “Don’t want to get toasted. I’ve exploded enough for one lifetime.”

 

“Hold up Boss, I’ll help!” Iron Bull relished the chance to assist in fighting of any kind, but as he trotted off Dorian sighed and looked to Sera.

 

“She’s right you know,” Sera quipped. “That girl’s got to stop exploding.”

 

“Agreed.” Dorian let out a nod and sat down to chat with the Elven girl.

 

——

 

She had once lived and died with the grace of an arrow. The Bor’Assan was her refuge and her specialty. But it had been a long time since then. She was fifty-four years old and still considered to be Fen’Harel’s child bride. She hated that insult towards her husband more than anything. She would live forever unless she was defeated in combat or outright murdered. Elves may live forever but they still reached maturity at a similar age to humans, and she had more than enough time to understand who she was meant to be. So it had been 30 years since she lived and died by the will of the bow. As she loosed each arrow into her targets she found it was incredibly frustrating to try and be what she once was.

 

 “Aw come on Boss, you’ve got to be joking, you can do better than this!” Iron Bull was not helping. To a degree Ellana had felt she would survive this by viewing her counterpart as either her equal or outright inferior to her because she lacked magic. She was not expecting to find an area the other Ellana was far superior in so quickly. Her shots didn’t feel far off from where she was before, but this Ellana was about the age she was when she became an apprentice and she seemed to be better from the reactions Bull was giving her. ‘Solas did mention she lived in conditions that were far inferior to my own. I thought the rural Elven people were as bad off as they could be, but my counterpart was a forest dwelling stereotype. All she really could do was archery, I suppose.’ Ellana felt bad for herself. To a degree she hoped the other world was treating her well. 

 

 But did she hope her husband was treating her that well? Her shots got more sporadic as she thought about her husband with….a superior version of herself. She snorted as she shot perfectly for the first time. ‘Honestly, being jealous of myself? It’s not as if we are both there and being compared. We are the same woman. I hope he seduces her.’ She blushed at that thought. She certainly hoped if the Solas of the other world was going to live forever he would aspire to only be with the exact same person. 

 

 “See, much better!” Iron Bull cheered her on. 

 

 “Why thank you!” She jokingly laughed. Yes, if the Solas of the other world was either going to be alone or be with a younger version of herself she didn’t mind. She would simply have her own goal: to make sure that the Solas of this world would be her partner. She had a feeling it might be easier for her than the other version of herself. She knew the truth. It would be hard for Solas to put distance between them as well. She had omitted one piece of the truth in order to make sure that was the case. Her necklace, which beat to her husband’s heartbeat, was now beating with his. ‘Whatever version of him is the closest, I suppose.

 

 “Don’t get cocky now, one arrow as good as your normal and then a sloppy shot after. The Ellana I know could shoot the arrow out of Blackwall’s mouth while he was eating it from here!” She snorted. Now that one had to be an exaggeration. 

 

 “Inquisitor,” she heard the voice of the very person she was thinking about. She turned to see Solas looking at her, his face stern but uneasy. “If you wouldn’t mind, we still need to run some tests.” A lie, at least for right now. Iron Bull had a disgruntled look but he nodded to her.

 

 “I’ll wait here for you for a few hours. Come get me after that if you need me.” Ellana met eyes with Solas and walked towards him. As he motioned for her to follow him she felt an uneasy tension sitting between them. It reminded her of so many times he had led her. For a long time she had walked behind him out of respect. Eventually she had done it because she loved the feeling it invoked in her to be able to see his frame. In this world he walked as distinctly as he always had, each footstep graceful, each motion of his arms and sway of his form enticing. She felt a lump in her throat. Could it really be so simple, or was she simply a heartsick fool?  He led her to her room for what she assumed was the utmost privacy until he turned back to her. His look made her stop in her tracks. 

 

‘Oh creator,’ she bit her lip. ‘I could love him so easily.’ If this was so easy for her, she would never fault her partner for feeling the same with her counterpart. 

 

“There is a complication,” he said momentarily. Ellana raised her eyebrow before a figure appeared from the balcony. She recognized her immediately as her dark hair laid over the edges of her eyebrows. She had always found Flemeth’s daughter to be a beautiful girl, intimidatingly so. She would have unsettled her completely if Solas didn’t find her personality positively dreadful and annoying. 

 

“Morrigan?” She asked after a moment. The woman gave her a wry smile.

 

“I’m surprised you know who I am, given that you are certainly not the same woman.”

 

Well, this would be an interesting conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how to properly translate the term ‘Wolf Mistress’ - Fen’Latha maybe? OR Fen’Lathar, since love is lath and ar is person, person of love, but that’s first person….Fen’Lathan?? Jee I dunno. Tevinter is more clearly latin but Elven is more ambiguous so to use latin as a base feels weird <_> If anyone wants to chime in on how to properly translate that I’m always open to that :’D


	4. Fen'Harel's Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Face to face with her heritage, the Inquisitor still has many truths to learn.

 

 Ellana had been given free reign to explore the keep, but it felt like she was being watched at every turn. She realized before long how true this was: servants' whose eyes she caught immediately asked if there was anything they could do to help. She was used to this because of the Inquisition, but she always shook her head. If the other version of her was like her at all, accepting help from people because of her position would seem strange. She wanted to follow Solas but she was also afraid. ‘Mythal is with him?’ the thought of meeting the Mother of the gods sounded like something she could not bear just yet. Facing her own gods seemed too foreign. 

Especially since she had apparently been in love with one of them.

Ellana held onto the rune that transported her to this realm with anxiety. She had just met this other Solas and figured out where she was but that didn’t leave much to ‘where this world was’ or if it was a different time, what she should be doing. What exactly were her responsibilities? What was her position in life? If she was the lover of a god what did she do in her free time? ‘Magic, apparently.’ That had sure been a shock to hear. When she was young Ellana dreamed of being the First of her clan. She dreamed of learning all the secrets of the ancient Elven people, a dream she had expressed by spending a lot of time looking for ancient Elven ruins with Solas, but she had never shown any signs of magical capacity. 

She stubbornly did not want to follow after ‘Fen’Harel’. He was pushy and not worth the energy to deal with, the way he had put his face so close to hers and pressed her into a wall. . .her face grew hot when she thought about the way his counterpart had kissed her fiercely in return to her own motion. Already this version of him seemed forward and breathtaking in his own special way. She resented him for toying with her emotions before she remembered that he never had. 

‘This is already a headache,’ she said as she rubbed her temples. She decided to distract herself with the intricate architecture of the building she was in- a version of Skyhold that was far more impressive than the one she was used to. Ornaments seemed to float, crystalline structures that glistened with reflected sunlight. Skyhold shimmered and seemed to speak, the floors more comfortable on her feet than she could ever remember it being before. The drapery made her feel ashamed of what she had chosen for her room. Her hands ran over the fine fabric and she felt she had never touched anything like it. Each layer finely woven and breathtaking, she ran her fingers over the silky texture and sighed.

She was not one for fancy fabrics, she was not one for luxuries, but she had always grown up believing true elves had no such things as luxury. Here, in the halls of an Elven god, was luxury she had not thought elves could value. Whites and blues were prominent, furs lining the edges of fabrics in a way a Ferelden countryman would find humbling. If the human countrymen in the South were considered the masters of pelts and furs, the elves of this time could put them in their place for proper use. 

And then there was the air, dancing in her lungs like a cool river on the skin when the sun was hot. At first she had been so hindered by the feeling of the rune and its suffocation of her lungs that she had not noticed how free it felt to breathe here. Visiting the Fade was like a constant flow of shifting winds, and breathing normally had felt natural enough, but here the two combined felt like she had been doing it wrong for years. She looked out the window and felt pangs in her heart as she looked to the sky.

Had the world she’d come from been nearly as marvelous, the sky nearly as bright? Ellana shifted uncomfortably. It was difficult for her not to marvel at this newfound world, but it was more or less like a dream. It had only been a few hours since she had come here and her emotions had been nothing but unsteady. ‘Am I dead?’ she had asked herself, but the mere sensation of breathing was so fantastic she could not compare it to death. A dream seemed like the most likely possibility, but she somehow doubted she was capable of imagining things as they were. 

For instance, she had never once postulated that Solas was the Trickster god Fen’Harel.

But if she was here, far from her duties as inquisitor, what was the purpose? If this was reality would it be forever? Fen’Harel had stated as much. This was a phenomenon they would be lucky to replicate. Thinking about the concept of it made her head hurt. If you thought about how many Ellana’s there might be in this exact situation it became worse. Were there infinite numbers of Ellana doing different things? Her mind raced when she thought about there being two of her, not to mention countless versions. And he mentioned something about magical frequency, magical what? She had listened to some of the Keeper’s lectures to the First when they needed a protector and she grew older. The only thing similar to this ‘frequency’ in her mind was the chance of an arrow hitting another arrow through the mark. How likely was even the best archer to hit an arrow through an arrow already shot by herself? It was more likely even if her arrow shot through another, it would be a small distance apart. Even a fraction of difference meant it would not be the same. 

And if that was true, both Ellana’s would need to be firing the same size arrow, same width, same height, and hit exactly the same. How often would she even need to use that mark to use the exact same amount, in the same manner? Her stomach lurched. If it was anything akin to arrows, she might never return to the world she called ‘home’. But she knew very little of magic and this left hope that she might not be thinking about it in the same way. She hoped that was the case.

As of now, though, she was standing in a hallway she could only vaguely recognize surrounded by people she did not know. Her saving grace was when she caught the eyes of the servant’s, no matter how awkward it felt to be asked, she could respond in a perfect fluent elven. Each time she did this her grin grew almost giddy. It was her only relief as she sorted out her feelings from the day. ‘Solas is an Elven god, but at least I know how to express that his lie disappoints me in a profound way, and that I find myself believing I was lied to quite thoroughly.’ Or even perhaps, ‘Well, I might never see my clan or the people I care about ever again but at least I could write profuse poetry about the loss in the ancient word of my people.’

She could not shake that she had essentially believed this price to be worth the knowledge. The most souring part of it all was that she still wasn’t sure. She had lost so much so instantly and she still wasn’t sure what she would do if she could take it back. ‘I am walking in the halls of my people, breathing their accomplishments, walking in their truths, and I cannot pretend that does not move my heart.’

The syllables move on her tongue and she savors each moment of her heritage. She was afraid now, afraid of whichever choice she made. Solas- no, Fen’Harel- had made it clear that for this to have happened there would be another Ellana in her place. A magic user who could bend even the cold heart of a broken god to her whim, no doubt, and so she should not be afraid of Corypheus destroying all she knew. **That** Ellana even had the mark. But _this_ Ellana felt a whimper being held back in her throat. Would that Ellana allow a friend to die? Would she know the sheer loss if they lost anyone? Would she feel the pain Ellana did and feel the spark that kept her going?

She was anxious, but in an instant she felt something else, she was  _ terrified _ . Ellana felt a _ compulsion _ to walk forward, a step after a step. She breathed harshly as she tried to fight the sensation. She tried to stagger herself but she could not. She wanted to cry for help but the words died on her lips when she recalled this feeling from once before. ‘Flemeth. . .Mythal.’ She had avoided stepping into the presence of the woman who was mother of the gods, but there would be no avoiding her now. Solas has not seemed to notice the name of the Well, but that suddenly made sense. Why would it be a Well of Sorrows if it was in dedication to a living god? The Well probably existed here in a different form, but that did not matter. She was still bound to Mythal.

Each step was agony and anxiety mixed into a fine cocktail of distress. This process never hurt, but her stomach seemed to feel as if it was punctured with thousands of knife edges. She almost tipped over at several steps on the stairs and as servants moved to help her, their eyes widened. Yes, she supposed, it did look strange when a person looked like they were under control. She could hear voices ahead of hers. 

 “Come now Mythal, are you sure this is the best way to get her attention?” the familiar voice of the Dread Wolf went to her ears. She heard a melodic voice respond. This was certainly not the voice of Flemeth. 

 “I am simply curious, Solas, nothing more. Before now if I were to think of your wife as someone who submitted to my will, well. I had to make sure you weren’t trying to trick me, that’s all.” Ellana's face grew hot at the word. 'Wife is the closest to that word in common...but I can feel how deeply it means. He and I?'

 “Come now, my friend, I haven’t played any tricks on you in at least a year or two.” This was the most shocking part of it all. Hearing Solas and Mythal talk as if they really were close friends made the shock of his real identity hit her all over again. “But, honestly, I insist. Please release the geas you have over her. Unless it proves absolutely necessary to stop murder, I would insist you never use it on her again.” Suddenly the hold on Ellana ceased. She gasped for breath and then looked to the open door. She felt a lot of appreciation for Fen’Harel at the moment. There was a gaping silence welcoming her to come in the room, but she waited.

“Of course. Your wife has done me many favors without need of my forcing it, I am sure her counterpart would feel similar. For forcing your presence, I do apologize. You should enter, youngling, I can taste the youth on you from here.” Ellana took another deep breath and walked through the doorframe, and found her stomach losing the knife’s edge and embracing a different, more anxious, feeling. She stopped to observe the people in front of her and stifled a gasp as she took in the mother of the gods.

Her outfit had elements reminiscent of what she’d seen on Flemeth, but the rest had an identity that matched the architecture of this different Skyhold more than the human whose body she lingered within. Warm greens caressed her lithe figure and her hair, a brownish gray, sprawled to her waist. Her face read of a woman who was barely touching 30, not a woman thousands of years old. Her skin made her elegant and extravagant fabrics seem dab in comparison and seemed so smooth to the touch one could only hope to wrap oneself in something so fine. Mythal appeared as if she was the most beautiful and maternal figure she had ever seen and Ellana could not tell if this was her own biased desire to see the gods as majestic beings or her true presence. 

However it was Solas who was the most jarring. It was not because he had changed in appearance since she last saw him. No, what made his visage so terrifying was how well he fit beside Mythal and how she had never seen it before. Seeing the way he looked when he sat in the presence of a god made it so ferociously clear that he belonged there. He was a god, and he had been from the first moment she had ever met him. It hit her like a rampaging boar - Solas was one of the Elven ‘gods’. She had heard it in the last several hours but believing it had been a matter of time. Her mouth felt superbly dry. Her face felt naked. 

“Why, Solas, she is looking at us as a newborn babe might look at its’ mother,” Mythal edged coolly as she took a sip from her cup. Her smile was nothing but amicable. “It is hard to believe this is the same spirited woman who once screamed at me for injustices. It is delightful.” Suddenly Ellana did not feel quite as enamored. She was torn between annoyance that she was compared to an infant and shock that she would actually yell at the mother of the gods. Then again, she mused, she never imagined she would be campaigning for the appointment of a new Divine either. Her life was just that strange.

“It is...not everyday one meets their own gods. Or...realizes a god has been walking among them.” She shifted uneasily.

“That is the curious thing for us. Mythal and I would like to hear the tale of your ‘reality’ more clearly. Her test was a solution to answer the question: Are you the same woman? Which we have proven impossible. The Ellana I know is not bound to Mythal. To learn more of our solution, it would help to hear your world’s history. Why, perhaps, I might have done the things you say I have done.” Mythal nodded, a slight grin still playing on her lips. Ellana sat in the chair near them at Solas’ motioning and she sat up straight, her hands folded in her lap.

“To start. . . what do you call this place?” Ellana inquired curiously. Solas responded with ease, and she could hear the Elven words in her ears. ‘Tarasyl’an Te’las’. Ellana caught the common tongue in her throat and did not allow it to be translated.

<”We...call it Skyhold…”>Solas rose an eyebrow.

“I see. It’s a fairly literal translation, but why would you call it a common name if I inhabit it? And why would I need to hide my identity if I was in my own stronghold?” Ellana felt a shiver go down her back. Yes, it made perfect sense after all. Every secret and every image from the ‘Fade’ was probably a sensible lie. But this place reminded her of the Fade as well as the world she was from.

“I don’t know. You never presented yourself as such. You simply appeared and saved me from the mark’s destructive power. . .after the Veil was torn.” The two of them seemed to twist around the world ‘Veil’. It had an Elven word, she was sure when it rolled off her tongue, but she did not know if it meant the same to them.

“Not a veil one wears, correct?” Mythal motioned her hand quizzically. Ellana nodded.

“It’s. . .not a veil someone would wear. It is literally ‘the Veil’, the border between the waking world and the <Fade>.” ‘Fade’ tumbled out of her mouth in the common tongue. Veil had been close enough in Elven but the Fade was too literal, it did not match the grammar of the Elven she spoke, and so it came out literally. She rolled her tongue, unsure of what that meant.

“<Fade>?” Mythal asked, humming out the word in common as well. It seemed likely they would both know the language even if they hesitated to use it. Ellana wracked her brain to explain it. They must know! There was no way the Fade did not exist in this world. Especially if they possessed copious amounts of magic. 

“The lands of spirit and magic?” Solas shook his head in dismay at her words. 

“Remember what I told you before? I suspected this might be the case. Long ago I planned to use my Orb to create a barrier between the Beyond and the rest of the world in order to trap away the Evanuris," he saw the look on her face and stalled for a moment to explain." For simplicity sake, just know they were the he powerful elves you knew as the gods. But when Mythal recovered she urged me not to- and so we devised another plan that took away much of the magic the Evanuris possessed. I suspected this was the case when I realized your magic did not exist in the world you spoke of. It seems the world you are from is one where I used this plan...unaware of its consequences,” Ellana looked at him with wide eyes. The fall of Elvhenan, Arlathan, slavery, the Dalish, her vallaslin, her very life being mortal. . .they were all because. . .?

“. .the Veil does not exist here?” Ellana’s understanding of the world conflicted with this in everyway. “The blight.” She could ask about that, it was too big of an inconsistency if it did not exist here. “. . have you ever had to defeat a <blight>?” her head tilted but her eyes were panicked. The two of them looked confused. Again, the first time ‘blight had an equivalent’, but in context it slipped into common. She shook her head nauseously. Had Fen’Harel’s mistake really caused the Blight? Forsaken much of the world? Were the Elven people truly so important to the stability of Thedas?

“I...do not know what the Blight is,” Solas responded. “But if it is a darkness, let me assure you that there has been much loss and grief in this world as well.” He did not want to tell her aloud what their world was like now. Tevinter Magisters had fought bloody wars, enslaved citizens not lucky enough to live in our larger cities - and some even then-, the Andrastians burned an Evanuris alive. Though we punished them for their hubris and took great pains to destroy their hold on the people, many still revered the ancient legends of them. It was hoped for by many Elves that Mythal would restore them to their former glory when they atoned for their betrayal, it was seen as a reflection of elven mistakes and their ability to grow from them. He did not know how to inform her that this reality was far from perfect, not when it seemed the Elvhen  had suffered more than he could stomach in her world.

She shook her head.

“The Blight is a corruption. The Tevinter Magisters broke into the Fade, the golden city, and tainted it. The taint they created….it touches us all,” she shifted. She wasn’t exactly ready to explain the taint and how even Solas himself shied from it. “Some of us believed it was legend until the fifth Blight. . .” she had seen enough, even if it had only been a little. For Ellana it was hard to hold back her tongue as she explained much of her world. The story of the Hero of Ferelden and how as a child her assassin Elven friend had inspired her to learn how to fight with daggers as well as arrows fell out like an easy story. Then the tale of the Champion and how she was the only thing stopping the slaughter of countless mages seemed to elicit interest as well. She added in Varric’s additions of Red Lyrium and how it had too, been tainted by the Blight. 

Neither of the two gods seemed pleased with what they were hearing. It was very awkward to explain everything as if she was a subordinate of the two, but she knew in all technicality she was a subordinate of one of them. ‘He warned me,’ Ellana muttered inwardly. ‘He just didn’t tell me he knew that god was real and she was going to hold me accountable for my dip in the Well of Sorrows.’ She wanted to believe this was all some trap in the Fade, some mysterious and intricate way of gathering all her information. But so far all she had told was the story of how she had come to understand the world and this information would do nothing for the two people sitting in front of her. 

“My dear,” Mythal said serenely. “This is information I find hard to stomach. But I must wonder, where do you come into this story?” Ellana looked to the woman and sighed. She held up her hand and her mark lit up as she willed it to. Mythal’s reaction was to rapidly change her gaze to Solas, who nodded. 

“To end the war between the mages, templars, and the Chantry, there was a special summit held known as the Conclave. The Dalish. .” she paused. If they could explain detailed things simply perhaps she should try. “Another remnant of Elven society that I belonged to, were also involved. Our people were caught in the crossfire of the war and so we were invited to attend. I was one of the Keeper’s chosen. And so-. . .” she looked down. “Before the Conclave could truly begin I was walking the halls, scouting out the building in case things went awry. I heard a voice calling for help, and a voice mocking her for her pleas. I...stupidly, or perhaps bravely, entered the room to find the one person I did not expect. Surely, you know the importance of the Divine?” 

“The Leader of the Andrastian faith, in a world where Andraste has consumed much of the region.” Solas stated succinctly. “No doubt, an important figure. You must have been shocked.”

“She was being. . .executed. Sacrificed, by one of the men responsible for the taint. One of the first Darkspawn, the Elder one Corypheus,” Ellana’s voice trembled. Her fight with Corypheus would be soon, and bloody, but it would not be this version of her to fight the battle. She squeezed the hand that held the mark into a fist and gritted her teeth. “It is said by Andrastians that the Magisters turned the Golden City black, but none of us know for sure.”

“Do none of the Elvhen remember, then?” Mythal asked. Solas looked as if he was going cold, a realization hitting him. Ellana shivered. Her heart was beating in her chest like a rocking drum, so hard she was almost positive it would hit her ribs and create an obvious noise against them. She looked at them in awe.

“You’re immortal, aren’t you?” They were truly gods. Truly the Elvhen, the people she had come from that she had never been so close to in her life. That had no Vallaslin and neither did any of the servants, they looked infinite and wise and so much more powerful than she had ever known. She was respect and revered and she still felt like she needed to kneel to them. But their looks were not of gracious calm anymore. It was clear on Solas’ face that he realized exactly what they did not have anymore. In her land, where she was from, the barrier had stolen immortality from the Elvhen people.

Which meant the other version of her went from being an immortal being he might one day see again, to a woman who could die in his equivalent of a blink. Mythal looked to Ellana.

“You. . could be as well. We will have to monitor how you age and how you grow from this point on. How old are you child?” The Inquisitor shifted awkwardly, she was clearly a child in their purview.

“I am...twenty-five years old,” she looked at them as she said it to gage their responses, she suddenly recalled her birthday had not been too long ago. She had forgotten to mention it to anyone in the Inquisition, it just did not matter in the same way to her. Solas seemed to be in another world, white as a ghost and eyes torn from this realm. Mythal was more unsettled. 

“Twenty-nine years apart. The other version of you looks exactly as you do, but she is twenty-nine years older,” Ellana wanted to gape. Twenty nine years older? Fifty four years old? Immortality. That Ellana was immortal. Or perhaps, she was now the mortal one? Was the Solas she knew still immortal? She sat there with her hands on her knees, her expression stunned and her breath barely in her control. Solas stood abruptly and gave a slight bow to Mythal. 

“I must go, Mythal. I will see you later. Ellana, if you would attend me in my study this evening I would appreciate it greatly.” He gave a lingering glance to Ellana an departed. She swore she could see an immeasurable sadness to it all now. She remembered the tombstone in the Fade and the words it spoke of his greatest fear: Dying Alone. If she was still mortal did it only now seem like he would lose the person he loved forever? Ellana felt sympathy for the man for the first time since her arrival. It had been so easy to despise what he had done to her, how he had been lying the whole time, how he had taken everything from them- but this Solas had not done that. And now, instead, he might lose all the things he cared about on his own. Mythal looked to her.

“This is a troubling revelation. The other world you come from- it sounds as if our people have truly fallen.” Ellana wanted to shake her head with all her might. But even glimpsing what Skyhold was in this world, even tasting the Elven on her lips made her want to agree. This was just a taste of what being Elvhen was? She wanted to weep at her loss of it and she knew if she ever returned to the world she was from she would miss parts of this. But she knew what she would do if she returned.

“It is because of people like myself that it will never fade away. If I am able to return, I would give them this language, this truth, and find a way to restore what we truly had.” She stood and bowed to Mythal. “It is...good to meet you. The last time we met, you were quite different.” Mythal stood, a good deal taller than Ellana, and walked beside Ellana.

“Why don’t you tell me all about her, this other me? I am interested.” Ellana stiffened at her words, but nodded. It seemed she would be entertaining Mythal instead of trying to speak to Solas. It was probably for the best, the last thing he needed was to talk to a woman who half hated and half loved his other self. 

“Well, it all has to do with Flemeth and Morrigan,” she stated.

“Oh, one of my most loyal servants and her daughter? I must hear this.” Mythal had a playful smile on her lips and Ellana laughed.

“Well, she’s definitely still _loyal_.”

\---

As Ellana was preoccupied by Mythal, Solas was in his wife’s study. She always had her own spaces, she could take over anything simply by sitting in a space for a length of time. Her mere presence captivated people and had them doing things to please her. He could see that was probably the case for her counterpart as well. His wife had also shivered in front of Mythal and nervously clenched her fists for most of the encounters. Before the conversation had taken a turn for the disturbing he had found himself admiring her features and her naive touches. She was just as his Ellana was, and she would blossom just as beautifully as she grew more accustomed to her environment.

But then he realized the horror of it all. His other self had not simply stolen magic, a concept, from his people. Magic had breathed into their world, their creations, and even their bodies. Without the whispering permanence of magic that crept into their skin and bones they would age and die. At first the thought that his wife might be gone simply meant it might be a very long time, but he would likely see her again. And in the meantime he would have her counterpart, a woman he could see grow into the same being as his wife.

Now Solas realized she would potentially be lost to him forever. The person who had gone from sarcastic and insolent child to the most enrapturing woman he had ever seen. The one who wore his ring and who he had imagined even having children with was vanished, and she might turn to dust before he ever held her again.

_ “Fen’Harel,” she had once said to him during the first year of her apprenticeship. She had come with him during his attempt to restore a spirit. Humans had violated one of his dearest friends, and he was enraged the whole time. The loss had been so distinct to him that he had murdered each human who did this down to their bones. Ellana had watched him do it. At first she had begged him to stop and he had sent her a death glare, something he coul feel regret for now. She was a calm headed woman who could always put her anger behind her. It was true she seldom let things get to her. That was why he chose her. She could put her pain and suffering elsewhere and do what must be done. _

_ But he had felt the greatest remorse when he finished off the humans who had destroyed the spirit he cared for. He looked to her and saw specks of blood had landed on her cheeks. She had been too close to his carnage, but she refused to move away. He looked to himself and sent layers of magic riveting down his clothing, clearing them of any blood. But for her, he did not. He had moved to wipe the blood from her cheek with his hands. She had looked up to him with the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. He had not seen a beautiful woman until that moment, her calm collected patience with his atrocity helped him find peace with what had happened. That was when she said his title. _

_ “Solas.” He said gently. “In this moment, please call me Solas.” _

_ She looked up at him and after a moment, placed her hand on the fingers that lingered on her cheek.  _

_ “It is alright, Solas.” He looked at her for a moment with confusion, and his heart fluttered.  _

_ “What do you mean, Da’len?” She then moved her other hand to meet the one already on his. She moved his hand from her face and cupped it within each hand, the smooth cool of her hand reminding him to let go of the hot magics he had still dwelling within him.  _

_ “There is nothing to be afraid of. Our friend is gone, but he lives on with the People, as spirits always do.” It struck him like a hot knife, he had done it not just because of anger, but because he was afraid. For Solas it was usually fear and anger that caused him to act so violently so quickly. Humans destroyed much of what Elves loved, and they needed to know they would be punished. He had done plenty of wrongs out of anger and dismay, yes, but the ones he did out of fear were the hardest to live with. When he was angry it was because of betrayals and wrongs, but when he was afraid it was because of loneliness. He had lost so much to the humans wars and their slavers and the spirits did not deserve the damnation of corruption.  _

_ He was mortified. This girl was a child, so very young, but her perception was uncanny. He had seen it in her before but he had been unwilling to believe the same perception that prompted him to choose her as his apprentice would allow her to see through his actions. And when she looked at him, he did not feel as if he would be alone any longer. He pulled her to him suddenly and held her there, her body warm and her spirit welcoming to him. It hurt to lose someone he loved so much. But here was Ellana, and he would make sure she was never lost to him.  _

Solas could not help but think of the first moment he relied on Ellana. She fought away his emptiness and destroyed his sadness. This other version of her had spoken of a different man: one who was afraid, one who had destroyed all he loved, a crumbling man who could trust no one. He had been that man many times before in his life. But now that version of him had the woman he loved and he did not know if he would ever see her again. The thought she would die without him made him feel empty. 

Solas wept, in his room where no one could see. If this Ellana, the only one he had, were to fail to gain immortality, he would truly be alone. He did not want to exist in a world where she was dead. There was too much between them, even if this Ellana did not know it. He would find a way to restore her immortality at the very least. But in his heart he wept for the Ellana he knew as his wife,

_ Vhenan, please be safe. Please live. Forever, and always, live and know happiness.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing this Solas because it's the Solas we'll never get to see in the canon /sobs deeply. Your comments are so nice!! Thank you for all your wonderful comments. I know no one asked but I ended up illustrating the kiss from Chapter 2:
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	5. Morrigan's Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan may not know everything, but she knows enough.

Ellana really felt as if this version of Morrigan was more beautiful. There was something about her hard edges that seemed to give her more character than her other version. Granted she had always found the other Morrigan so much more pleasant, but the other Morrigan had saved her life on two separate occasions. This one, however, was more interested in calling her out on her identity. It wasn’t hard to see why she might prefer the other.

 

 “You are not the Inquisitor,” Morrigan stated precisely. “But you are her, in a strange way. How intriguing.” Ellana looked to Solas who shook his head.

 

 “Oh, is that so?” Ellana knew from Solas’ nod there would be no deceiving her. No doubt he had spent the better part of his day talking to her, arguing with her, until she revealed something he could not refute. Or perhaps until she threatened to take this idea to the rest of the Inquisition. This was not something either of them wanted. 

 

 “Do not play coy with me,” she warned coldly. Ellana shook her head 

 

 “So, Is this all I have been called here for? You wish to accuse me, and have me admit to something I could not possibly do? Truthfully, why did you wish to speak with me?” Morrigan walked towards her. She continued. “Afterall, if you are certain I am not the Inquisitor why have you come to me, a supposed imposter?”

 

“ Very well, I will be up front about what is obvious and what I want. I think it is clear to all three of us at least some truths of the matter. Whatever the rune was, it was of ancient elven origin. That is one of the reasons you came to me in the first place, but the other reason is significant as well. Why would you suddenly rely on Solas for aid in this matter after requesting he know nothing?” Solas did not allow her to finish before he curtly interjected.

 

“As I have told you, assuming the way you do simply shows how ill-informed-” Morrigan scoffed at him, to which he returned a glare. Ellana did not know how to keep a straight face when the Morrigan she knew had been most surely as witty, but never had she been so outright disrespectful. It was excruciatingly funny to Ellana, even though she knew how serious it actually was. Her heart beat rapidly as she calmed her mind and looked to Solas, who seemed rather agitated. 

 

 “If I may, your clothing was another cause for concern. I had never seen a fabric like it. It only took a few glances to see how special it must be. You also suddenly had jewelry, you were adorned in it,” the pointed to her necklace and her ring. Ellana cursed her inability to remove the necklace. No one could remove the necklace but herself, and she would never do that. Removing the necklace was far more dangerous than simply leaving it on. The ring however, was just her pride. She wasn’t going to stop wearing a token from the person she loved, or allow Solas to think for a moment she was not his wife. In one world or another. 

 

 “Your skin is lighter, more delicate. No doubt your closest friends will notice it easily. It won’t be long before they notice your finery and want to know where you got it from. And on top of that. . .your nervousness is reason enough, Solas.” Solas fumed at her accusations. 

 

 “Or perhaps, anxiety around the Inquisitor in the face of victory is just something I know could hurt our efforts. Perhaps I think it best she quell the rumors to you personally, lest it wrongly upset the Inquisition,” Solas was making a great argument, Ellana thought, but she knew there had to be more to it. If Morrigan had been with her counterpart during the incident then she had a lot of evidence. Ellana raised her hand to interrupt both of them.

 

 “The fact that you have not gone to speak to any of the Advisors speaks volumes. What do you want from me, Morrigan?” Morrigan and Solas seemed taken aback and Ellana smiled. “Tell me, what happened in the Eluvian between us?” Solas had mentioned to her that she and Morrigan had gone into the mirror and met with her mother. Solas implied that her ‘mother’ was perhaps the avatar of Mythal in this world. She froze as she remembered Mythal was dead in this world, but shook off the sensation. Morrigan’s expression softened in the face of honesty.

 

 “You...The Inquisitor and I encountered my mother after she lured my son into the Eluvian. She. . .revealed herself to be Mythal, or for whoever she is to be both Mythal and Flemeth,” she looked to Ellana who was looking out into the sky from the balcony window of her Skyhold bedroom. She had one arm crossed and the other on her chin when she turned back to them. 

 

 “Ah, I see, then it is as I remember. Along with the your omission, that this ‘Mythal’ took something from your son.” Morrigan seemed to ease slightly at that. She was suspicious, and should be, but Ellana could at least fire back what little Solas could tell her to Morrigan. “Well, as it stands I am. . . foggy. I know each of you on sight, I have memories of you. . .but they come and go between reality and what seems to be the memories of another. I am the Inquisitor, at least part of me knows that. I suspect whatever that rune was, it was a memory or artifact of ancient Elven times. The well’s knowledge is no longer a voice, but a far off clouded thought.” Ellana had thought long and hard about the lie she would tell Morrigan or any other member of the Inquisition if they had to. She and Solas had planned most of it, but she knew it would be her responsibility to do what she could do believably. 

 It had to start with honesty: so far she seemed to recognize almost every person she had met in the Inquisition. Not just Bull and Dorian, but the women who she had to confront this morning with reassurance. First thing in the morning the woman she recognized as Leliana, an important figure in human society who she had personally dealt with in recent years, had asked her questions of her health and what Solas did to help her. Josephine, who she was sure she had seen in passing in her world but whom she had never personally met, had informed her of the issues surrounding the explosion and her sudden health concerns. After she had spent sufficient time in their presence they had let her attend the Mess Hall, where she had seen Dorian and Iron Bull. Sera, however, was someone with whom she had unfortunate meetings. But this moment was about Morrigan, and selling her a half truth she could believe. She was the Inquisitor’s counterpart, every inch of her the same woman, but she was not going to convince Morrigan she was the same in every respect.

 

 So this was how she improvised. 

Morrigan suddenly seemed concerned at the words she had given her. The concept of the Well of Sorrows being lost to her was something Solas had warned she would not like. That knowledge was imperative, at least so long as he could not reveal his identity and assist in a way of slaying Corypheus. To tell the Inquisitor who knew nothing of him too much would be dangerous. To let the Wolf Mistress of Fen’Harel know what remained in this world that she knew of simply meant aiding his own interests and protecting the world from his mistake. 

 

 “Then do we even possess the ability to defeat Corypheus if we do not have knowledge of the Well?” Ellana smile at her intellect, but she did know far more than Morrigan pictured she might. 

 

 “We do. I remember what I need to- and in some ways I feel as if I know more. Trust me Morrigan, once Corypheus is defeated I plan to tell everyone what has happened to me. I want to let them all know and to...find a way to undo whatever it was we did,” Ellana wore a troubled expression. All she had to do was channel the feelings she felt about never returning to her world and the way this one had destroyed her people and it was easy. It was so easy to show her discomfort and her fear. “I still know what I have to do.”

 

 Morrigan eyed her.

 

 “Do not think I will be so easily fooled Ellana. I have no doubt you are the same woman in  **some** ways, but whatever that rune did to you is more substantial than you are willing to admit. All of us saw your sorrow in Solas’ treatment of you, yet now you are here with him. Much had to have changed for this reaction. In my experience, Solas seems to be a man of pride and conviction..no matter how wrong it might be.”

 

  Ellana looked anxiously as Solas. He had given a small explanation of the truth, but remembering that conversation came with many other thoughts. There were too many things she had learned last night, too many promises in the dark that she had to make. As she waited for Solas to make his move in his elaborate game of chess, a game no one had noticed they were playing, 

 

_   <“I have. . .I have hurt your counterpart,” he said simply, hours into the conversation. “If we are going to figure out what has happened and defeat Corypheus, you need to know that. Everyone in Skyhold is aware of what I did to you.” Ellana eyed him in the dim candlelight. The warm golden hue stroked the sharp edges of his face and she yearned to touch him. But the distance between them was so obvious in moments like this she knew she could not. _

 

_  “What did you do to her Solas?” She paused and whispered a correction. “What did you do to me?” It was Solas who broke the infinite space between them to cup her hand in his face.  _

 

_  “I have not told you much of the Dalish, but they are very prideful. She-You- came from a branch of the Dalish. The Dalish are prideful and arrogant about things in which they know nothing. They claim to be living in the way the ancient elves did, but too much has been lost for that to be possible. They took murals, fractions of paintings, and their skewed perception of what the the Elven language was to an infuriating conclusion- that Vallaslin was an honor to the gods they served, not a mark of slavery in tribute to the gods.” _

 

_  Ellana moved her face back in abject horror. She had never possessed the blood writing and no Elf she had ever known who did wore it with joy. Only the most loyal of Evanuris’ followers placed it on their slaves, slavery itself being a practiced outlawed by Solas, and any who saw them felt pity and outrage. Her eyes were wide and almost hysterical and she could feel her heart beating from her chest. The cruelty of enduring such a pain only to look into the mirror and see you did not own yourself was horrifying to her. She did not want to ask allowed. She did not want to conclude what he needed her to. _

 

_  “The Inquisitor possessed her own Vallaslin. She had worn it with pride for several years. I never even intended to tell her the truth. I was sure when I first met her that she would insist I was wrong or even that the meaning had changed so it was fine. I see from your look of horror you have seen and understood what they truly mean. But the Inquisitor surprised me. She gave me a look very close to what you did. That was the last night we were together, the night I removed her Vallaslin. But I realized something when I saw her smooth face, her skin smooth and perfect like the wealthiest mage in Elvhenan.” _

 

_  Ellana looked at him with intense sorrow. She could feel his responsibility and mourn his loss all at once. _

 

_ “You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen then. Free, powerful, respected. You had friendship and love and you were the most real thing that I could see in the world. . .but if that was true, if I indulged in your beauty and your love, I would be abandoning those who needed me the most. They all deserved to be freed, to live in a world that reflected who they truly were. And each time I looked at you I would be torn. Either I saw her as nothing but a pale reflection of what we once were and needed to destroy everything to restore sanity to my people, or I had to live looking at the remnants of those I destroyed and pretend it was fine. How could I pretend when I knew all could, all should, be as she was? I knew I’d be living a lie everyday, pretending it was fine to enjoy the good things our people had left while ignoring the bad I had created. You were thus my eternal reminder. You were why I did not wish to go, and why I had no choice but to go.” _

 

_  Ellana could hear a thousand uncried sobs in his chest. She could feel bloodshed on his fingers and she could see the tears that were not there. She realized she was crying for him. The Solas she had known had been through so many agonies, but he had done it all for his people and he had saved them. She could feel all of his misery and she hated it so much. Hadn’t he been suffering long enough for everyone? Hadn’t he just done all he did for the good of his people, even when he hated it?  _

 

_  “Are you angry with me?” he asked almost forlornly. Ellana shook her head rapidly. _

 

_  “Oh my heart, My heart I beg you not to think I am. You may be far from me now but if you could see the love she bore you please understand that you are the same to me. For an instant I wondered if I could see you the same as my husband, but you are him to a fault. And to feel each tear you have not cried, each tear you could not cry, pains me so deeply. I know how much you love our people. You made a mistake. You never claimed to be a god but you had the power and the choices to shape the world like one. It is unfair that a person who is just like any other would be forced to bear such a burden for a world that does not understand him. Please- let me help you.” _

 

_  Solas looked at her for a long time. She knew deep inside of him there was hesitation that battled with each sensation like a fire flickering against the wind. This would not be enough to undo what had been done so long ago, she knew, but she also knew this version of him needed her. So she had heard no more of what he had done to her other self. She, too, had been spurned by her mentor before in the face of his responsibility. ‘Oh my other self, please, if you feel so alone please allow the Dread Wolf to hold you close. Right now, I can help him. I can ease this pain for him.’  _

 

_  She hoped that was true.  _

 

_  “Very well.” He said after several minutes of silence. _

 

But when he spoke now it was different.

 

 “Ellana has forgiven me for my insensitivity, and allowed me to do what I do best. Aid her in Elven knowledge no one else can. We have had a very long discussion on the matter and it is very clear to me she remembers nuanced information about us, something impossible to falsify. Go ahead and ask her, if you doubt me.”

 

_ Morrigan assisted you, as did Dagna, they will likely have a decent recollection of that morning. If you will allow me to walk in the Fade with you, I will retrieve as much as I can. That way you can believably see it all.  _

 

_  And they had walked the Fade, a place where Ellana felt more comfortable in than the waking world. There they had retrieved echoes of conversations between Ellana and Morrigan, and even some between Ellana and Dagna. The memories were not there if the emotions were not strong, however, so the conversations were limited. She saw the mark of Elgar’nan’s vallaslin on her other self for moments and felt as if she would be sick. But she learned- learned of Kieran and his birth. She heard sorrow in Morrigan’s voice as she mentioned the Hero of Ferelden - a woman who she had to admit sounded fantastical at the least - and she could hear the guilt when they spoke of Kieran’s father.  _

 

__ “Solas, I can speak for myself,” she walked up to Morrigan and whispered in her ear. “I know you tell me few secrets, but I was always curious why you say your son would not be born without the Queen of Ferelden’s aid.” Morrigan blinked and stepped slightly back. 

 

 “That is...fair enough. But I have my suspicions still, and I have a favor to ask for my silence.” Morrigan had very coolly shrugged off that topic, but it had made her uncomfortable enough to serve Ellana’s purposes. 

 

 Solas and Ellana looked to her almost in unison. She lifted her head and shrugged her shoulders. 

 

 “I will remain silent and allow whatever you intend to do to come to pass. But if you wish for me not to bring this to the attention of others, I will need a favor,” she walked around the room steadily. “You say the Well’s memories are foggy for you, but whatever the rune has done has clearly had an influence on you. My mother may not be a danger to me. . .but I intend to leave the Inquisition with no part in the runes effects on you. In truth, I believe you to be from another version of this world. I do not know the difference and I do not know if this is necessarily true, but I have my reasons.”

 

 “Reasons? Ones you intend to keep to yourself?” Ellana asked coolly, not letting on the anxious feeling that hit her in her gut. They needed secrecy. They needed time. 

 

“Do you need me here anymore, Inquisitor? Or is whatever knowledge you possess now sufficient enough to destroy Corypheus?” Morrigan stared her down with her arms crossed. Ellana realized it now. Morrigan was asking her if it was safe for her to leave. She wouldn’t endanger the world at large but she knew there were mysterious circumstances going on. Ellana looked at her before turning around and putting her hands behind her back.

 

 “You should leave Morrigan. I promise you no one will claim you did not do your part,” she said as if she was another person. Morrigan nodded to her.

 

 “I assume you will remember this favor I have done you, Ellana Lavellan?” Solas saw the look on her face and for once he felt the slightest respect for her. She was willing to be pragmatic, and she only requested safety. If only she knew who her mother really was, and who he was. Ellana did not turn back to her, she simply turned her head slightly.

 

 “Always, Morrigan.” 

 

 Morrigan stepped from the room with much left on her mind. It was clear to her that whoever stood in Ellana’s place carried much of who she remembered the Elven Inquisitor to be. She held her mannerisms, her posture, her words, and even her thoughtfulness. But she had seen the pull of the rune and the way it shimmered. It had called the Inquisitor into it and sucked away her form into what seemed to be an abyss of magic akin to the infinite distance of the Black City. She remembered her harried panic as she had tried to stop the Inquisitor from touching the Rune after so much magic had been poured into it, and she remembered her fear in the moment when she realized how lost things might be. 

 

Yet before the moment of the explosion she saw the form of someone else appear. Only the frame had come into sight before her vision obstructed and she was forced to put her time into the energy she needed to protect herself. No one else but Dagna had seen what she did, and it had been easy enough to convince the dwarf to say nothing of what she saw. Morrigan knew the delicate position she was in, if she were to endanger the Inquisition by revealing what she saw then Corypheus might succeed. Corypheus could not be allowed to succeed.

 

 Morrigan did not know what happened to the Inquisitor. She did know the woman who was in her place might very well be a version of her. This was not a sort of magic that her mother spoke often of, the only thing she had said was how difficult something of that nature might be. She had gone to a place beyond reach herself a long time ago, but never outright to another dimension. But this Ellana could not fool her - nor could Solas. She was suspicious and she would not be assuaged. If this other world could stop the destruction of the world without her, she would take her son and go. She would not be caught unaware when the threads of fate pulled the world into an upheaval. 

 

 When she found Kieran playing in their room he only took one look at her before he smiled and stood. “When do we leave mother?” She smiled and kissed his forehead, ruffling his dark hair back.

 

“Tonight.”

 

 Kieran did not argue. 

 

\---

 

 Ellana sighed and sat down on her bed. Solas now had his hands behind his back, the exact way Ellana had as she stood facing away from Morrigan. <“You were mimicking me, weren’t you?”> she looked up to see he had a wry smile.

 

 <“Only a little,”> she gave a small smile in return. It was dark now and it would not be long before she had to sleep. She had spent all of the day trying to convince everyone around her that she was thirty years younger and led an entirely different life. She was tired. She put her head in her hands and breathed as deeply as she could. She could feel Solas’ arm on her shoulder and she looked up to him. He smiled down at her and she felt some of his worries being lifted from him. She could be grateful at least to lift some of the sins from his back. 

 

 <”Could you answer me something, my heart?”> she asked as she slid backwards onto the bed. He sat down on the bed and looked down at her. He did not answer with words but the look in his eyes was enough.

 

  <”Could you tell me about her? Tell me how you came to love her?”> Solas seemed taken aback at that question. It mattered to Ellana. She had understood how Solas came to love a spirited girl with a talent for magic who could understand him and had defended many. How had he come to love a woman he clearly intended never to love? Solas was staring into nothingness for a moment before he began in the common tongue.

 

 “When I first saw her, she was dying. My mark was on her hand but the Orb was gone- in the hands of the Magister who you must now fight. Without the Orb I could not close the Rifts myself, or even open them further. It seemed natural to me when out of the ashes came not just anyone, but one of our own people. While I saved her I noted that she was beautiful, but Dalish. I was almost positive she would be difficult to deal with and a simple shell of what being an elf was.” Solas’ expression gave way to a painful smile.

 

 “I was quickly proven wrong about her. She argued at first but then pleaded with me to teach her, not to chagrin her when she could not know. She took every lesson in like I was her teacher, even as I had to pretend I did not know it all from experience. Without my asking she would bring objects to me, objects I had seen flourish in their time now relics. It was hard for me not to mourn but she, you, loved them as they were. She found a way to find joy in the things that I only seemed to bring out further.” He hands grazed the bedsheets and he sighed, looking up at the ceiling. 

 

 “I tried to focus on her flaws. But the more I observed them the less terrible they seemed. I resolved myself never to give in to temptation. I kept my word, but she did not make any such vows. I led her to the Fade and she kissed me there. When I tried to break away she pursued, as if capable of seeing what part of me really wanted. The more convinced I became that I could push her away, the more I grew to love her company. I wanted more than anyone to teach her of the world she belonged to, the one she was owed.”

 

 He had recalled the first time her felt her in his arms. The feeling of a dying woman, another Elven life he had cost the world. He would not allow it this time, even this Dalish elf was someone he needed. In so many ways he was still Fen’Harel, plotting the way he must do what he had to do. Trickery had been the method in which he won many of his battles, and the way he planned to use the Inquisitor was no different. He had not thought they would become friends.

 

 He had not even dreamed they might become lovers. 

 

It was hard to deny all the things that he had ever been. He had not been discriminate in the way he loved many people with his body in the past, but he had grown into a tired and cold old man. Ellana, however, had been exactly what an elven woman could be idealized to be. He had seen the most beautiful of flowering maidens, the most handsome of young warriors, the most rugged of disciplined elders, but none of them had grown from adversity as she had. Her rare spirit made her so much more beautiful than any of them had been, and he hated it.

 

 If he had not loved her so truly it would have been easy. She had looked at him with such hurt when he told her it was done. Had he seen her long ago with a face as beautiful as her naked skin, he would have swept her away to Terasyl’an Te’las and nurtured each individual sliver of her beautiful mind. He was an hard, empty old man who had no right to love her as he did. He wanted to pour his years of wisdom into her as best as he could. But all he could do was give her a little time, a life. He could let her live without the sorrow of destroying everything she had grown to love. 

 But her eyes had said it all.  _ ‘What is wrong with me? Am I not beautiful enough, not wise enough? Did you ever love me?’  _

 

_  “I love you,” she said softly. “I do not know how to not love you any longer.” The strong, proud, brilliant woman who led the Inquisition cried. Her eyes looked like brilliant crystals as the moonlight glinted from her tears.  _

 

If only he had been able to admit the same. He had loved before, but he had resigned himself to not having love any longer. He did not deserve the love she gave him in the first place. How could he tell her the truth? He could not even express how much he loved her, how losing her was the final straw for the man he was. He could not be anything but Fen’Harel, he could not allow himself to love her any longer. But still, he would, and he knew. His heart ached as he looked to the mirror of that woman. Her eyes were on him, beckoning him to open himself. He had no way to keep secrets from her, and she had already sworn herself to him. 

 

 He noticed her eyelids drooping up and down, and he felt relief only at the knowledge that she was going to be in a more familiar place in her sleep. 

 

 <”Did you ever tell her how much you loved her? Did you ever give into her, truly, even once?”> Solas looked away for a moment, but then ran his eyes along her body. He had resisted Ellana in many ways for a good deal of time. He had told himself that when he told her everything he would have her, finally, even as in his waking dreams he desired her. His desires for her were tempered with his guilt and his sins. But he had always resisted. This version of her, however, knew him. <”You wanted her, didn’t you?”>

 

 <”Please, I cannot. If she were to switch places with you and never know, never know something I knew, that agony would be worse.”>

 

<”You plunge yourself into your greatest fear as atonement for the wrongs you have done, the wrongs you must do, but I am telling you I am willing to shoulder those burdens with you!”> He could tell from the look in her eyes how sincerely she meant it. She had gone from lulling to sleep to finding a hot anger in her stomach. He had done nothing to earn the devotion he saw in her looks. She was not merely devoted to him out of a maddening love for him, she believed in his cause and everything he did. She was not the Inquisitor - she was his most loyal companion. Yet all the same it tore him apart. When he looked at her he also saw the woman he had betrayed. She was an innocent saving the world in the best way she knew how, desiring him and loving him wholly without him ever being honest with her. 

 

 <”Ellana,” he breathed deeply. “You must try to understand how she felt. She must try to understand how she loves her clan, her friends, this world. And then when you see how much she would betray herself to aid me, ask yourself if it is such an easy decision to accept your. . .” he had to look away when he saw this. “You have never been hurt by me. Imagine if she were to return tomorrow and- I could not bear it. I could not bear to force her to live with what I need from her, from you.”>

 

 Solas hated how close it all was. She was inches from him, accepting of him, beautiful and alive and in love with him. She was an innocent in her own way, never having her heart broken or her trust in her gods misplaced. He felt a tug on his arm and she turned him towards her, forcefully pressing her lips against his. She tasted just as she had the first time, except for the heightened sensation of being in the Fade, with an added hint of magic. Her lips were as soft as her counterpart’s and just as inviting. He had resisted her for so long and it was so easy to return her kiss in eagerness. She was the ally he needed with the strength he required, and she was the woman he loved with nothing to hold her back from helping him. She broke the kiss before he was ready and looked him in the eye.

 

<”Do you know why I do not fear how she will react to you, should you meet again?”> she asked, that perfect Elven accent sounding so much more alluring when it came out in her voice. He looked at her, beckoning her question in earnest.

 

 <”Because the version of you that I fell in love with would never allow her to suffer. He will show her who you really are.”>

 

 Solas felt a bitter thought run through his mind. 

 

_  ‘I hope it is not the other way around, Vhenan.’  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found I had a lot of issues writing this, and I'm uncertain if I like the outcome. Because of that the next chapter will be posted in the next day or so as an apology hooray!


	6. The Mortality of Ellana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew he could earn her trust, but did he have all the time he needed?

Mythal had very interesting comments to make to Ellana. Morrigan, from what she understood, had apparently saved her counterpart’s life a few times. She had also learned the favor had been much returned. If it wasn’t for her graceful footsteps and the sheer power of her presence she could almost forget that Mythal was a god she had worshipped. Did she still worship her? She suspected that would be a thought tested in the coming days. It was hard not to want to when the woman seemed to walk on air and breathe magic itself.

But it had been the better part of the day and Ellana’s normal needs were catching up to her. Her stomach, for instance, no longer cared if she was in a funny dreamscape where her ex-lover was now a god. Especially since she had eaten nothing in the morning before coming. At least, she thought humorously, the feeling of her stomach turning inside out did not deter her appetite for too long. Mythal caught the edge of a smile that rested on her lips and turned to her.

“Now Ellana, whatever is on your mind?” Creators, she wanted to mumble. The way Mythal spoke in Elven made her want to bow down. She blushed as she looked at the beautiful goddess and shook her head.

“Thinking to myself, it is no matter,” Mythal had learned very quickly she did not have to prod Ellana very much to get an elaboration, but she did not press further on this matter. They had passed through the gardens and through various quarters Ellana once recognized. She had so many times seen a new thing, a herb being prepared in a new way or a sword being forged in a way she had never even dreamed of, that made her pause and wonder how it had been so lost when it seemed so right. Now they were in what seemed to be a different area, crystalline and beautiful, and most certainly seemed to hold bedrooms. Mythal guided her to a grand bedroom that almost matched the size of what she knew Solas’ room was.

“I see. As it is now, Ellana, there are some things that I wanted to speak to you about,” Ellana had already spoken in hushed whispers of her demise, the people, the future, and many other things. Mythal responded to her perplexed expression by chuckling. “It deals with Fen’Harel.” Oh. Ellana could handle this matter more easily, and it made sense why she would not want to talk about it except in her own quarters.

“You must tread carefully, da’len,” Mythal warned her as she motioned her to a seat. Ellana gratefully sat down and ignored her numbing legs. Even if she could feel hunger the feeling of having her muscles pulled inside out from the rune's magic was not as easily overcome. She met eyes with Mythal whose expression was more serious, a look that made Ellana want to cower in a corner. “You are important in this world. More importantly, you are a target. If you were to stop being a presence in the world many unfortunate things would happen, but if you appear at the places you belong you will open yourself up.”

“I have been. .important, in the other world, for a good deal of time,” she was in fact ‘The Inquisitor’ after all. Mythal shook her head.

“How do you imagine the gods to be in this realm? You have told us of your clan and how they viewed the gods in small detail. But do you know what it is like in this realm? Can you not see it in the tapestries, smell it in the air?” Mythal gesticulated as she spoke, her fingers seemed to trace the tips of the wind itself. As she turned back to Ellana she pulled from her body her intricately woven scarf, a pearl white embroidered fabric that seemed finer than the most expensive of silk brocades. Ellana had to move to catch it spastically even as she dropped it only a foot to her lap.

The shawl felt softer than any fabric Ellana had the pleasure of touching in her life. She had never surmised that she would wish to feel something like this, a luxury the Dalish convinced themselves they did not need. But it was the woven details on the scarf that made her wish to weep, the embroidery so fine that she knew only hands that had lived virtually endless lives could make them. It all told a story, a story so long and varied that she was sure to tell it right the shawl needed to be much larger.

Ellana did not understand how things like this were possible. How could a piece of fabric make her fight back tears? How did such a simple concept take her breath away? But the answer to Mythal’s query hit just as hard.

“They worship you,” she gaped. “They find strength in your existence.” Mythal gave a pleasant nod, but then followed it up with a heavy sigh.

“Yes. Solas….Fen’Harel did much to stop it. He believed we should do our best to step down as ‘gods’, and I agreed. But the greater our deeds, the more their celebration. The more our power, the more their worship. And do you know what came of it?” Ellana looked down at the shawl in her fingers and ran her hand along it. Her stomach lurched uncomfortably from hunger and anxiety. Ellana’s memories of the grave flashed in her mind again. She looked up to Mythal and saw for once a stone woman, a figure who was made to exist in one fashion alone. She was the mother of gods now truly, but she was not Solas.

She did not fear to die alone.

Mythal sat down in front of her.

“We have very few weaknesses, Fen’Harel and I. Oh, many have tried to find what they could be. At first, we intended to split the power of the Evanuris and give it to others- but we were betrayed repeatedly. Solas was injured, he carries a scar I am sure your version does not, and we decided to do what we must. It was Solas who made the most personal sacrifices and absolved himself to be a figure, not a man. He did it for the people, and he stayed alone,” Mythal took back her shawl and wrapped it around her body as beautifully as it had been before. Ellana did not meet her gaze. “Until you.”

“There was something about you that seduced him from his determination to fall on the sword. You reminded him of our people’s goodness, and you reminded him that he did not have to be alone.” Ellana felt her face growing red, but she was incredibly embarrassed. She was used to being able to turn off her feelings as best as she needed to. She couldn’t stand hearing how much this version of Solas loved her, cherished her. That wasn’t a love she deserved or even love that she had earned. She let her face soften and the words flow through her ears but not pierce her mind. She would endure this as if it was a lecture from a diplomat she had never met, this story of Solas and the version of her that he could bring himself to love.

Or was it the version of him that could love at all?

Mythal noticed the change in Ellana’s demeanor and stopped to study her for a moment. She could not know that this was what being Dalish had trained the younger elven woman to endure. The Dalish had to bite their tongue, hang their heads high, and pretend their culture was not failing. But Ellana had learned to pretend better than any other Dalish, and it served her well as the Inquisitor.

“No matter,” Mythal continued, “All you must know is that you are a weakness. The other you has protections and powers you do not possess, though I am sure you are strong in your own ways. If you are not steadfast you will be endangered, and Solas will crumble without you.” Ellana only let a moment of emotion flicker in her cool eyes.

“He is their leader. He is stronger than that,” she said softly. Mythal chuckled.

“Silly girl. Fen’Harel would be a greater foe to kill, but Solas will die without you.”

The rest of the conversation had gone smoothly as Ellana showed respect for Mythal while also keeping back her emotions. She had done enough near-crying and gaping in front of Mythal and she knew it was time to keep it all inside of her. She would not be able to digest any more information if she allowed herself to be taken in by every aspect of her culture. She took each step as she did in the Temple of Mythal, bursting at the seams with eagerness and enthrallment that she was forced to ignore. Eventually, she excused herself from Mythal’s presence, though she was sure it was because Mythal herself wished to be alone that she was able to even ask, she helpfully directed her towards the kitchens. Ellana did not mention that she already knew the way.

There was not the least bit of resistance to her asking for things in the kitchen. On the contrary the cooks seemed to be extremely pleased to see her in the flesh. Ellana noticed that all of the Elvhen present looked in between 20 to their late 40s. She assumed that the older of the elves must be ancient, somewhere near Solas’ age. How did aging work for Elves in the past, anyway? Apparently, her other self looked just like she did even as her age was thirty years more. Ellana wanted to wrinkle her nose at that when she gained thirty years she was going to look quite a bit different. But it was rude to ask how old they all were.

“It’s good to see you again milady. Especially after that explosion this morning, we were all worried about you!” a woman looking no older than Ellana leaned against the counter separating her from the Inquisitor. Ellana let a smile quirk on her lips.

“I’m no worse for wear,” she was at least being honest here. Despite the feeling of being turned inward, Ellana seemed to be in exactly the same state of health that she was in the other realm. Looking at the other elf she decided to take a risk and leaned down to whisper. “I was wondering, who is the youngest person here?” The woman blushed.

“Well, aside from you Wolf Mistress, I believe Solvena is around one hundred and six,” it took every ounce of Ellana’s willpower not to have an immense reaction. Wolf Mistress? Fen’Latha? She blushed uncontrollably at that and the elven woman noticed. “Oh, milady, I’m sorry. Your youth is not a bad thing, you have done more than most people have done in hundreds of years in half a century. It’s something to be proud of!” Ellana almost laughed at the misunderstanding. She knew she was exponentially younger than every person in this palace, if not all of Elvhenan in general.

“Oh, no, it’s no issue. Sometimes I just forget how young I am!” she tried to shrug off her reaction but the cook seemed to take it as a joke. She and every cook nearby let out a giggle.

“Oh Fen’Latha, you brighten our days with your cheerful jests. Fen’Harel has told us your dinner should be served to you whenever you wish it. Would you like us to prepare you a plate now?” Ellana was startled by their happiness. The cooks at Skyhold had a jolly nature when they weren’t stressed, but feeding an army had given them a layer of gristle she thought must be the case for anyone. The elves in the kitchens seemed to be doing what they enjoyed most of all and seemed to care for her in a way that threw her off balance.

“Yes, please.” The woman smiled at her and scurried off, and she sat at the edge of the kitchens in awe. When elves worked in kitchens in the cities she had seen through the Inquisition they had seemed broken, beaten in some way no matter how well off they were. She always looked for how her people felt at any given moment. Though she pretended not to care in front of Sera the presence of other elves gave her immense comfort. ‘Not all elves are good,’ she had told herself once, ‘But the other elves are my brethren, and I love them as if they were family.’ Those kinds of thoughts made her face burn.

They reminded her why she had fallen in love with Solas in the first place. The idea of being close to her true origins had enamored her so thoroughly. It made so much sense now in retrospect; of course one of the gods themselves would bring her closer to what she was supposed to be. Her heart ached when she thought of that again. She resolved to focus on the smell of the food in the kitchens. A broiling gurgle emitted from her stomach as soon as she allowed the lingering aroma to fill her nostrils.

_In her_ clan _the most magnificent of meals took so many hours of preparation that as a child Ellana had to learn how to conceal her sheer excitement. Long before she had her vallaslin she had sat in front of a fire with her knees to her chin._

_“Da’len, you must be patient,” the kind voice of the cook had come to her. She had grinned and giggled and kept staring at the fire with immense interest. In her memory all she could recall was anticipation. When the cook looked away for just a second she had put her hand to the stewing pot and cried out with pain as the heat scorched her skin. Tears poured from her eyes and the cook scolded her even as tears welled in her eyes. But it had all been superficial, and with a little magic and time, the hand had healed normally._

The next time a child sat a little too close to the pot, Ellana herself stopped them. Each time Ellana found herself a victim of her own impatience she practiced the Bor’Assan. It was probably why she had been such a master of it, the bow held her fascination when she would otherwise do things she should not. But even the bow had not stopped her from touching that damned rune. She shook her head and tried to return to thoughts of stewing meat and tender vegetables. Just as she imagined her favorite spices mingling with the hearty navets and potatoes she loved, the cook from before caught her attention.

“Mistress, if you would please follow me, I would love to carry your food. There is too much for you to bring by yourself.” Ellana perked up and saw there was an entire spread of food. That was all just for her? She wanted to protest, but she could not see a single item that she did not enjoy eating. At least, the ones she could identify.

“You do not have to do that-”

“Mistress, you say that every time, but you know I will carry it for you even if you try to take it.” And just as she said it, the woman picked up a tray that looked far too heavy for her to carry. Ellana heard a snicker and saw another cook.

“That is Feylin for you, she will never take no for an answer.”

So her name was Feylin. Ellana would remember that. She followed Feylin into the other room and found a dining area she did not recognize, a small secluded one that seemed prepared for only the most important of people. Well, she grumbled inwardly, it’s not as if I am not that in Skyhold as well. Feylin bowed to her after setting the food down and then scurried away before Ellana had time to say anything.

Sitting down in front of the food, Ellana found herself unsure of where to start. So, she began with her favorite vegetables. Within seconds of putting the food in her mouth, she found herself in excruciating satisfaction. The potatoes seemed to melt and she could recognize none of the spices in the same way she knew them. It was not just the potatoes, all the food seemed to tenderly break apart in her mouth as if every vegetable, every scrap, was prepared in a perfect way. Ellana had not eaten food that tasted good in her entire life. Had she even tasted anything close?

Her stomach seemed to match her tongue, each bite failing to fill her as opposed to the last. It took all of her will not to swallow each bite more voraciously than the last. Even as the Inquisitor she would never eat like this- she would never eat so much food in front of the soldiers. If they had to eat gruel she would try to do it as well, and she had succeeded many times. She supposed being alive forever meant you could practice many things until they were absolutely perfect. If everyone could shoot arrows as well as they could cook, she would be like a child in front of the most practiced guardsman of a kingdom.

Ellana finished almost everything in front of her before leaning back in her chair. The food was delicious, the air was impossibly crisp in her lungs, and the sounds of Elven speech echoed in every hallway in this building. There was something inherently comforting about Skyhold now. But in her pocket was the rune that had caused all of this, and its mere existence made her feel as if she did not belong.

Ellana began wracking her brain with solutions and ideas. Morrigan had poured magic into the rune to make it work, perhaps if the same thing was done it could happen again. She shook her head at the thought when she remembered how clear it was made to her that this could not happen easily. If ancient elven ruins just so happened to pull you into another realm when surrounded by any sort of magic then a lot more of her people would have gone missing in interesting ways over time. But accepting it meant that someone who did not know the world she belonged to was going to be in charge of saving it.

Ellana decided to leave the area she was dining in and head towards the only place she knew to go: the bedroom that she had been calling her own for so long. It was such a familiar walk and no one even stopped her, why would they? She probably shared that bedroom with Fen’Harel. The realization made her stop.

She decided to sit for a moment in the hallway leading to the primary bedroom. It all felt like it was too good to be true, or too terrible. A Solas that loved her, a world where her people did not fall to ruin, where even food tasted richer, and a world where the Blight had never happened? She pinched herself. Of course, nothing happened. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. What did Mythal want? Did she think her lack of magic meant she couldn’t defend herself? She would bet money after all this time that she was the best archer in the Thedas she knew, and she would not doubt her skill with knives could compete highly as well. She had also learned to duel in her younger days, and she was not a slouch by any means. Even without the anchor, no one had doubted the skills of Ellana Lavellan since she had come to be the Inquisitor.

But these people were essentially immortal. Her mere two decades of practice with the bow probably seemed like a drop in the bucket, and only her natural talent might bring her up to speed. She had no magic and it might be true that she was weak in the face of these individuals- but if that was so then what was her life going to be like from this point on? If she was trapped here in this world was she supposed to hide away and pretend she wasn’t weaker?

And what happened when she out-aged them? That solemn reminder made her otherwise satisfied stomach hurt. She must have seemed like an ant to Solas all this time, perhaps that was why he left her. She was a speck on the infinite tapestry of his life. She realized her ability to hold her feelings wasn’t working anymore. It had been so easy when she was in the other world, constantly hiding everything for the benefit of others. But those other people did not exist any longer in her immediate future. She was alone, all except for a version of the man who had been deceiving her all along.

“But he isn’t now,” she heard a voice whispering into her ear. The voice was a calm and beautiful voice like a melodic tune, comforting her and soothing her anxiety with each syllable. “He is honest now. But you are scared, he is more than you knew.” Ellana turned her eye to see a sight that she was not ready for. A shimmering blue entity stood above her and its face morphed from human features to indistinguishable ones. The entity was so foreign to her yet so familiar that her fear felt tempered. Her heart rate slowed and the spirit seemed to smile at her.

“You trust me, thank you. You have no reason to, but you feel you know me. I want to help,” the spirit touched her shoulder and she felt a cold relaxing sensation wash over her body. “He loves you, I can tell. He is just scared. It will be alright.” The way the being spoke she felt like he knew far more than he should. In an instant, she knew that this reminded her of Cole. It had no form and it looked nothing like Cole, but she had heard from Cole that there were...reasons. Cole looked special, but she did not know exactly how he could have come to look like that.

“You remind me of someone I know,” she said lightly. “You are..familiar,” the spirit seemed especially pleased by that.

“Yes, I can feel that you know me somehow. I am Compassion, and you are Ellana. You are a different Ellana, a younger one. I knew her when she was younger, too. Your soul has the same fire, you have so many worries. I am sorry. She did not have so many to live with.” Everything the spirit said sounded like the words Cole might say, and she felt tears on her cheek. She was afraid of being where she was, she was terrified of being surrounded by people she did not know. What if she was too weak to defend herself? What if she died, unable to do anything?

“It is alright, you are so strong, and he wants to help.” Ellana looked to the spirit with trepidation.

“What do you mean?”

“He means I want to help you find a place here, Ellana.” Ellana turned her head to see Solas walking towards her. His presence made her heart quicken with both anxiety and joy. Her eyes met his and tried to look through his expression, but he only smiled. He joined her on the bench. “As the spirit said, he is Compassion. He is a marvelous friend of mine and he often makes his residence wherever comfort is needed. I almost suspected he might show up to comfort you.”

Ellana put her head down for a moment and then raised it again to look at him. “Do I come off as needing much comfort?” Solas tentatively put his hand on hers and looked at her to make sure he had her consent to touch it. She paused for a moment before deciding to nod, and he picked up her hand and cradled it as lovingly as one might cradle a child.

“This day might be nearing its end for you, but the two of us have only just met. I know you must feel overwhelmed right now. I want to know who you are,” he smiled at her in a way that made her heart soar. She wanted nothing but him and it tore her heart to pieces.

“They need me,” she mumbled painfully. “My friends, the world- they need me and I am not there for them. I let the hurt from. .from losing you distract me in the worst of times. And now you claim to love me, but how do I just believe? A week ago you told me you just couldn’t be with me, that maybe in another world. . .” Tears peaked in her eyes. Solas wiped away her tears and smiled at her.

“Here you are, my heart, in another world,” she looked into the eyes of the person she loved more than anyone and felt unimaginable sorrow. She should feel elated, shouldn’t she? She should feel happy to be in this other world. But he had smiled at her so similarly when he lied about everything. He had spoken of a world that probably did not exist at all. Was this Fen’Harel any different from the man who had lied all along?

But even as she asked it, she knew what she said earlier was true. She loved him in spite of his lies.

“Solas,” she choked out with a sob. “I want to believe in you more than anything. But you told me none of this, you did not tell me who you truly were at all. You played a game and I was a pawn, and my heart was set aside for goals I do not even know. How do I look at the same face and believe the words are not lies?” She could see an immediate reaction on his face. He carried a look that spoke of both shame and hurt. He took her other hand and held it alongside the hand he already grasped.

“I know. I can see the hurt in your eyes. But Ellana, I will give you all the time you need. I will prove it to you.” He seemed to be contemplating every inch of her fingers, from her skin to the knuckles underneath. “I want to give you an eternity if you need it.”

Ellana felt her heartache for something else. “We don’t have that. I’m not-” Solas shook his head.

“Elves are immortal in this world, and I am determined to give you that status,” he looked her in the eye. “If you will give me a chance to give you that gift, all the time you could possibly want in the world, I promise that you will know happiness in this world. Whatever it takes.” Ellana looked confused but he smiled and this wiped at least a small part of the confusion from her face. “I have some ideas, my heart.” Ellana seemed to take a moment to contemplate this.

“I...do not know if this is possible. But I will say that either way, giving me time is the best answer. And, perhaps, teaching me of what this world has to offer.” Solas stood and pulled her up to him, guiding her effortlessly.

“I would love nothing more than to show you this world, Ellana,” he put his forehead to hers and she felt the scarlet rise on her cheeks again. He smelled just like the Solas she knew, a smell akin to the rain on fresh leaves mixed with a hint of something none but he possessed, and it made her want to nuzzle her face into his chest. She hated how easy it was to want to be held by him, how simply she found herself longing for his warmth to wrap her body whole. She caught a glimpse of a delighted smile and found him gently leading her towards the opening of his bedroom. She wanted to object but he answered before she could say anything.

“I do not sleep much, Ellana. Please, rest in the room you are comfortable in. Or did you find yourself returning to our room out of more than habit?” He was perceptive as usual. She would feel strange sleeping in another room, and it would definitely arouse suspicion from those in the world. She resolved to accept the room and sleep in it no matter what, but the sight of it was awe inspiring. From the second Ellana stepped into the room she found herself engaging every aspect of it with all her senses. Golden embellished leaves seemed to trace every fine fabric, a pattern of tans and golds with delicate embroidery lining each embellished leaf. She found herself dropping Solas’ hand and going to touch the fabric. Her eyes caught ornaments and even paintings and when she finally met the sight of the large bed, she felt captivated.

She heard a chuckle as Solas walked up behind her. His voice seemed to make her ears burn. He always did have a great voice. “I had this made for you, for our room, when you became my wife. You had the same reaction when you saw it the first time.”

“It’s all so beautiful,” she murmured as she felt the soft fabric against her fingers. This was her life in this world? She suddenly felt his hands on her waist.

“May I?” he asked softly. She paused before nodding and she felt his hands encircle her waist, pulling her into a close hug. Perhaps, she mused softly, she had wanted this when she accepted the idea of staying in this room. Maybe a part of her wished for him to hold her close. No, she definitely knew there was a part of her that felt that way. “You are safe here.”

Ellana’s body shivered under his touch. How well did this version of him actually know her body? That thought brought her back to reality and she softly pulled herself out of his grasp. She smiled at him. “I know. But if you don’t mind, I would like to rest.” Solas did not miss a beat before he took a hand and kissed it. It did not help that when she finally laid down to bed she smelled him on the pillows. She let out a soft sigh as her mind faded to rest.

Who knew it would be so hard to resist him when he finally chased after her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Solas makes my life to write :')


End file.
